


A Different Boy-Who-Lived

by angelmorph



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived, Pre-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-08-20
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 59,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13241004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelmorph/pseuds/angelmorph
Summary: What if Voldemort chose to mark Neville as his equal instead of Harry? Neville and Harry get raised side-by-side by the Potters, that's what.





	1. Chapter 1

"Alice, Frank, come in. Lily and James just got here." Dumbledore opened the door to admit the new parents into his office. "Please, sit down." He motioned to where the Potters were already sitting in front of his desk.

Then, he closed the door behind them and turned to face the two couples. "You are probably wondering why I've called you here. Firstly, congratulations on the births of Neville," he nodded at the Longbottoms then turned to the Potters and continued, "and Harry. In fact, it is in part because of the birth of your sons that I have asked you to come here today. I regret the need to spoil your happiness by being the bearer of bad news."

The atmosphere in the room had suddenly become very serious. "Several months ago," Dumbledore began, "I was audience to a prophesy… It was prophesied that… Well perhaps it is best that you hear for yourselves."

Dumbledore walked over to one of the shelves along the walls of the room and picked up his pensieve. He placed it on his desk in front of his guests then lifted his wand up to his head and began poking around. Finally, he extracted the memory he was looking for and placed it carefully into the pensive. He swirled the liquid gently with the tip of his wand. The shadowy figure of Sibyll Trelaweny rose from the pensive:

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . ."_

The shadowy figure slowly disappeared as the raspy voice faded away. The mood, in the room, went from serious to sombre. One look at the couples before him was enough to tell Dumbledore that they had understood the implications of the prophesy. Each registered their apprehension in their own way, but it was evident that each was thinking the same thing: "My son was born at the end of July, soon after I defied the Dark Lord a third time."

Finally, Dumbledore broke the silence, "Of all the magical children born at the end of last month, yours were the only two boys 'born to those who have thrice defied him'. I cannot say with any degree of certainty which child the prophesy refers to, which is why I am telling this to all four of you. I understand if you'd rather not go into hiding unless absolutely necessary, but I felt I should warn you that Voldemort is likely to come after your families. A suspected Death Eater may have overheard part of the prophesy…"

_**One year later** _

Lily Potter could tell something was wrong the minute her husband walked in the front door after a long day's work at the Ministry. His usual sheepish grin had been replaced by a tight worried expression.

She was about to ask what was wrong when he volunteered the information, "Dumbledore says that we should get ourselves a secret-keeper. His spy amongst Voldemort's ranks tells him that the Dark Lord is planning to attack us."

"Why now? It's been a year" She had been hoping that the prophesy had been forgotten. Evidently, those hopes had been in vain.

James didn't answer her question. He didn't know the answer. Besides there was no denying that he too had been hoping. Instead he said, "I'm going to ask Sirius."

Later that evening, Frank Longbottom returned home to a very distraught wife. Visibly shaken, having herself just returned from a visit at the Potter's, she told him, "Dumbledore says that Voldemort is planning an attack on the Potters. They're going into hiding. It's only a matter of time before he comes after us too."

Frank let out a sigh. There was no denying the danger they were in any longer. "Much as I'd hate to go into hiding, we should probably get ourselves a secret-keeper too."

"Who would we ask? I wouldn't want to impose a burden like that on anyone I know," replied Alice.

He pondered the question for a moment. The responsibility of being a secret-keeper was not something you asked of just anyone. Finally, he replied, "Perhaps my mother will be willing…"

"There's no doubt she'll be willing. I just don't think it's right to ask her."

"What other choice do we have?" He was right, of course. In the end, there was no real choice.

_**One week later** _

A hooded Death Eater approached Voldemort. "My Lord, somehow your plans to attack the Potters have been discovered. They've already gotten themselves a secret-keeper."

Voldemort's face became twisted in fury as he demanded, "Who?".

His servant's voice trembled as he replied, "I don't know, My Lord"

"And the Longbottoms?"

"They'll be performing the charm tomorrow, My Lord."

"Then I will attack tonight"

"But I thought you were going to attack the Potters first," the Death Eater foolishly objected.

"You dare question me." The Dark Lord fired a Cruciatus spell at the Death Eater, in fury. "I will deal with them later. Tonight I will attack the Longbottoms. Is that understood?"

"Yes, My Lord." The Death Eater replied weakly still shaking from the after-effects of the curse."

"Good, Do not question me again."

"Master, master," Wormtail was out of breath, but his excitement at the news he had to relay was evident nonetheless.

But Voldemort wasn't in the mood to listen to the man that he considered to be his most pathetic servant. He brushed him aside as he waked past. "Later."

In his excitement, Wormtail overcame his fear of his master's wrath, a foolish mistake, He called after him, "But master, the Pot–"

Voldemort stopped in his tracks. He turned back towards Wormtail and said, "I said later…" hitting him with a Cruciatus curse before turning and continuing his brisk pace.

As Voldemort walked away, Wormtail recovering from the intense pain mumbled, "I just wanted to tell him that the Potters made me secret-keeper"

_That night Alice and Frank Longbottom died trying to protect their son from danger. Mysteriously, when the Dark Lord turned his wand to the boy, the killing curse he cast left the child unharmed. Instead it rebounded on the caster. The boy was left with only a small scar on his forehead, a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning. This is the story of Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived …_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take the time to thank my beta reader aggiebella on Phoenix Song for her help.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you sure that it's a good idea to lift the charm? There are probably still Death Eaters out there that want us dead." James and Peter had been arguing for almost an hour, ever since James had come through the fire at Peter's request, to discuss the issue, "What's the harm in leaving it up for a while longer?"

Peter didn't respond right away. _Because some of the Death Eaters still at large heard me tell my Lord that I was the secret-keeper. If they ask me where you are and I tell them, then you'll know it was me who betrayed you. I'll be caught._ Of course he couldn't say that. He was spared the need to come up with an acceptable answer by a sudden knock at the door.

"Open up, it's the Ministry," came a baritone voice from outside the door.

"Wonder what they want," James made a move to get up and answer the door to Peter's apartment since Peter seemed to have frozen in place. He opened it to reveal two Aurors in uniform, wand poised. Ignoring the shocked look on James' face, one of them walked over to Peter, keeping his trained on him. The other remained at the door, wand at the ready.

James was surprised to note that Peter was shaking visibly. What on earth was going on?

"Peter Pettigrew, you are under arrest on charges of participating in the activities of Death Eaters and passing on confidential information to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

The second auror turned to James who looked as if he were about to protest, "His name came up in the interrogation of Travers. He was in the presence of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on the night the Longbottoms were attacked. He had information for him, information about you…"

The final word hit James like a sledgehammer. They knew someone was leaking information to Voldemort. Could it have been Peter? It didn't seem possible. "How do you know Travers wasn't lying? You're taking the word of a confessed Death Eater."

"He was under the influence of Veritaserum. He wasn't lying," the auror responded calmly to James' enraged question. He had found the calm voice helped in the many times he had already dealt with that same question from family and friends of alleged Death Eaters.

Words could not describe the feeling of absolute betrayal that James felt in that moment. Peter was his friend, a fellow Marauder. How could he be a Death Eater? I wasn't possible. There had to be some kind of explanation. Imperius perhaps? But even as the idea crossed his mind, he knew it was impossible. Voldemort would have had no reason to consider controlling Peter. Everyone thought that Sirius was going to be their secret-keeper.

There was no other explanation. Peter had betrayed him. Swallowing him anger, he turned to the traitor and said, his voice deceptively calm, "I suppose you were right after all, _Worm_ tail. It is best we lift the charm."

**One Week Later**

"Hello? Lily? James? Is anyone there?"

Lily looked up from the blanket she had been knitting to see that the head of Mrs. Longbottom had appeared in her fireplace, "Mrs. Longbottom? How are you holding up? What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I could come over later today. There's something I've been meaning to ask you and James. I don't feel comfortable saying it over the fire."

"Of course you can come over. You're always welcome, you and that adorable grandson of yours."

The entire family was sitting in the parlour when Mrs. Longbottom stumbled out of their fireplace just after seven holding her sleeping grandson protectively in her arms. Sensing the presence of a new grown-up in the room, one-year-old Harry looked up from the toys he was playing with on the floor at the black-clad woman in the fireplace.

"Mrs. Longbottom, it's wonderful to see you," Lily greeted the older woman, "Oh, and you've brought Neville with you. He's grown so much since I last saw him." Neville had begun to squirm in her arms, no longer asleep. Tickling his belly she added, "Haven't you Neville, you little dumpling."

"Do come sit down," added James, putting down his newspaper and standing up to greet her. "You can set Neville down with Harry. I'm sure he'd love to have a playmate."

"Yes, yes of course." She set him down next to the dark-haired child who had already lost interest in the grown-ups and returned to his toys. "Now play nice and do try not to break Harry's toys."

Assuring herself that the boys were getting along nicely, she stood up once more. "Would you like some tea, Mrs. Longbottom? I have some water boiling in the kitchen," Lily inquired politely.

"I'd love some, thank you, dear, and do call me Augusta" she responded as she sat herself down near the fireplace.

James followed suit picking his newspaper off his seat where he had left it, "How have you been?" he asked, trying to start up a conversation with her.

"Better, I've been coping…" her voice trailed off and an awkward silence followed as they both sat watching the boys, who continued to play peacefully with Harry's toys.

"They certainly seem to be getting along well," commented Lily as she returned with a tray laden with tea and biscuits. "You really must bring him over more often."

"Actually, the thing I wanted to ask you about…" Mrs. Longbottom's voice trailed off. Uncertain of how to begin, she tried again, "Well you see… There are still Death Eaters…and, well, I'm worried for Neville's sake. He's still a target, so I was considering following through with the Fidelius Charm… and, well, I feel safest casting the charm myself, especially after…" Her words hung dead in the air. The Potter's choice of secret-keeper had almost cost them their lives. "And so…" she continued, "I need someone to care for the boy. I know you were close to his parents and I was wondering…I understand if you can't, especially with a son of your own to raise but I'd really appreciate…"

Lily cut her off before she could finish her request, "Of course we'll take care of Neville, if you're sure that's what you want. It's the least we can do. Alice and Frank would have done the same for us if our positions were reversed."

"Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me, you keeping him safe. He's all I have left. If something should happen to him…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks go out to my wonderful beta Aggiebell the thorough corrections and insightful comments that she delivers on such a timely basis.


	3. Chapter 3

When a tired James Potter arrived home from work, his senses were assaulted by the smell of spices which wafted in from the kitchen where Lily was cooking dinner. He walked up behind her and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Mmmm…Smells good…hope there's enough to feed an extra mouth."

"What?" she spun around to face him.

"Sirius invited himself over for dinner," he clarified.

"You could have warned me earlier..." her voice broke off at the sight of his sheepish grin. "Go on, and play with the boys while I finish this off, you big goof."

So James wandered over to the living room where he found the boys playing cheerfully together. They looked up at him when he entered the room, his son's green eyes lighting up as he intoned, "Dadda!" and spread his arms above his head. James, bent down to pick his son up, then straightening up lifted the giggling child above his head.

"Me too, me too," a second voice called from the ground. Setting his son down, James lifted Neville up and repeated his antics.

Unfortunately, as the fates would have it, Sirius Black chose that moment to walk through the door, catching James making faces at Neville as he bounced him around in the air. That in itself would not have been a bad thing. The problem lay in the fact that Sirius couldn't see Neville.

"Uh James, what are you doing? Harry's right there beside you."

"Course he is," James responded distractedly, failing to realise the reason for Sirius' confusion

"Then why are you making googly faces at the air above you?"

"I'm not making googly faces at the air; I'm playing with Nev..." James' voice trailed off as he suddenly realized the problem. He lowered Neville down to the ground, the child still giggling with glee then looked up at Sirius, "Of course, you can't see him. Can you?" Met with a blank expression he continued, "I suppose I should explain... Mrs. Longbottom came to us a few weeks back, asked us to look after Neville for her. Apparently she was worried about his safety so she asked us to care for him so she could cast the Fidelius Charm, to keep him safe..."

James wasn't expecting the burst of laughter he got in response to his explanation, though considering his history it shouldn't have come as a shock. "You crack me up Prongs. This is one of your best jokes ever. You actually had me going for a while. You actually expect me to believe that you're harbouring the boy-who-lived? That he's here at Godric Hollow under the Fidelius Charm?"

"I wasn't joking Padfoot." The laughter continued, "I'm serious."

At that Sirius burst into a renewed fit of laughter, "No I'm Sirius, you're James."

Her curiosity piqued by the laughter in the living room, Lily popped her head into the room, "What is all the noise about?"

"Sirius won't believe me about Neville," supplied James, the words sounding rather childish as they left his lips.

"Oh, Dear." She stepped fully into the room, "Sirius, I assure you that this is not a prank." Sirius continued to look dubious despite Lily's reassurances so James did the only thing he could think of to remedy the situation. He walked over to the fireplace.

Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder from the mantle, James called out the name of the Longbottom ancestral home, threw the powder into the fire and trust his head in. Almost instantly his head began to spin from its travel through the Floo network.

When it had finally stopped spinning, he found himself looking out on Mrs. Longbottom's living room. "Good evening, Augusta."

Mrs. Longbottom looked up from her knitting, "Why good evening James. To what do I owe the pleasure? I do hope Neville isn't misbehaving."

"Not at all. Actually I'm calling because my friend Sirius is here, and well ... things are a little awkward with him not being able to see Neville...and well… I was wondering if you could possibly pop over and fill him in..."

The unreadable business face replaced Augusta's friendly smile almost instantaneously, "How do you know it's safe to tell him?"

"I trust him" James replied simply.

That should have been enough, all things considered but Augusta wasn't satisfied. Without thinking, she countered, "You trusted Peter Pettigrew."

James' reaction was instantaneous. His face turned white in shock, then red with fury. "If you trust my judgement so little, why did you entrust your grandson's life in my hands?" That said, James pulled his head out of the fire abruptly.

The look on his face unmistakable to his wife, "What happened?" she asked quietly, almost dreading the answer she would get.

James looked her straight in the eyes and answered in a voice cold and devoid of emotion, "She won't tell him. She doesn't trust my judgement…because of Peter." On the last word his voice broke down and he let out an uncontrolled sob.

He hadn't cried when he'd learned the truth. He hadn't cried when they'd taken him away. He hadn't even cried when he'd heard the verdict pronounced and the sentence of life in Azkaban announced. But now the tears had finally caught up with him. It had finally sunk in that Peter had betrayed him, Peter who he had trusted with his life, Peter who had been a dear friend. That first sob had broken the dam and now the tears flowed unchecked as he sobbed silently onto his wife's shoulder.

James was alone in the parlour when Augusta Longbottom's face popped into the fire at Godric Hollow, a few days later, "Lily? James? Is anyone there?" He looked up from his reading to shoot a glare in her direction but said nothing.

Seeing that she did in fact have an audience, Augusta continued, "Look I know you're angry at me. I just wanted to apologize for what I said the other night, about Peter. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry. I do trust your judgment, really. I was just being paranoid. It's just…well… Neville is all I have left…and, I guess I just feel a little overprotective. I understand if you don't want to look after him anymore after the way I acted towards you. I just hope you can forgive me because I really do believe he's safest with you. Please forgive me…"

James was seriously tempted to let her keep begging until her voice was hoarse. He also considered getting up and leaving the room but in the end, even the vindictive part of him conceded that she sounded sincere and that he couldn't stay mad at her forever. His expression softened, "I forgive you…"

Augusta let out a sigh of relief and gave him a tentative smile then continued, "I already visited your friend Sirius to tell him about Neville. Went to see that other man you hang out with too, Remus Lupin. I think I might have given him a little bit of a shock, popping over unexpectedly like that but I figured you'd want me to tell him too, eventually. Didn't want to risk my not being home at the time it comes up…"

James smiled back, "Thanks Augusta, I know it must have been hard for you but I assure you they can be trusted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks go out to my wonderful beta Aggiebell the thorough corrections and insightful comments that she delivers on such a timely basis.


	4. Chapter 4

The moving van pulled up in front of number 7 Cherry Road in Godric's Hollow, on August 19, 1984, while four-year-old Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom played out on the front lawn of number 5. Lily watched them from the porch, barely paying attention to the movement of her enchanted knitting needles. Still, the sight of the van pulling up was enough to distract her from her child minding.

The house's previous owner, an elderly Muggleborn witch, had passed away a month earlier and the place was inherited by the woman's Muggle grandniece.

Lily couldn't help thinking it was going to be difficult having Muggles next door. Well, perhaps not difficult, since the Muggle-Repelling Charms would keep them from getting too close or paying too much attention to the strange happenings of Godric's Hollow, but it would definitely be different. Although most of their neighbours were Muggles, having the Muggleborn in number 7 and the elderly Muggle couple in number 3 that kept to themselves and rarely left the house, they'd grown accustomed to not having to hide from their next-door neighbours –the only people close enough to catch a glimpse of the weird happenings at number 5.

How would they manage to live in such close quarters with Muggles without being deemed eccentric or strange? She could only hope the new neighbours would be tolerant of the Potters' eccentricities.

Her thoughts drifted back to her parents and her own childhood, the fond memories and the foul. Some of her girlhood friends, those who she still corresponded with, knew about her being a witch and accepted it. In other cases she'd had to make judicious use of memory charms and sever ties. It had hurt, of course, but it was her own sister that had caused her the most pain. Petunia, her own flesh and blood, who'd declared her a freak at their parent's funeral and to whom she hadn't spoken since. In a way she understood Petunia's bitterness over their death at the hands of Death Eaters but that didn't change the pain…

Lily was jerked from her thoughts by the sound of a young voice a few meters a way. "Hi, I'm Colin." A small boy, who could not have been much older than three was talking to Harry. Since he had clearly gotten past the anti-Muggle wards, common sense told her he had to be a wizard. But who was he? There weren't any other wizarding families with young children for several kilometres that she knew of. Her gaze drifted back to the house next door. Could he…? "We're going to be neighbours."

"Really? I've never met another wizard my age before..." At the use of the word 'wizard' a look of confusion crossed the boy's face, causing Lily to reconsider her assessment that he was magical and Harry's voice to trail off. But there was a big difference between Lily's thoughts and those of her four-year-old son. While Lily considered the fact that his parents being Muggles as an excuse for his ignorance and his passage through to barrier as proof he was magical, Harry immediately corrected himself, "You're not a wizard… are you…? I've never met a Muggle before."

"Muggle?"

Harry's amended statement only seemed to make the boy more confused so he chose to fill the moment of confused silence with an introduction, "I'm Harry and this is my friend, Neville. He doesn't talk very much." He gestured to Neville whose face had adopted a look an apprehensive shyness.

Colin looked at the spot where Harry was pointing. "But there's no one there. Is he an imaginary friend? I have an imaginary friend too. His name is Peter."

Neville looked like he was about to start crying, "But I'm right here! Why can't you see me? Why can't he see me? Why… doesn't… anyone… ever… see me?" He was blubbering uncontrollably by the time he forced the last question out. He threw himself at the younger boy, pounding at his chest with his fists but his actions garnered no more reaction from him than the sobbing, which only served to increase it.

Harry was trying to comfort him but failing miserably, "It's okay, don't cry. We'll ask Mum. She'll know what to do. Please don't cry?"

Colin stared at him perplexed, "What's wrong? Who you talking to?" It was probably time to intervene before things got too out of hand. She banished her knitting.

"Harry, Neville, it's time to come in." Then turning to Colin she added, "I think your mum is calling you, but do come by again. We'd love to have you." Still looking confused but not frightened, Colin ran off to where his mum was in fact calling quite frantically, unable to notice him through the anti-Muggle charms protecting number 5.

Neville ran up to Lily and hugged her leg. Looking up at her though tear-streaked eyes he said, "Lily?" his voice practically a whisper

"Yes dear, here come sit on my lap," she beckoned him and he climbed up. Harry came and sat down at her feet. He would have normally got up onto her other knee but despite his young age he seemed to know that Neville needed his mum's comfort more than he did at the moment.

They sat like that for a while until Neville's blubbering had slowed enough for him to speak properly, "Lily, why can't he see me? He can see Harry."

It was a question she had been expecting for quite some time. It was impossible for him not to have noticed the fact that, except for a select few, dinner guests never noticed or acknowledged him but that didn't make the question any easier to answer. "Your grandmother loves you very much," she began pulling him closer, "and she worries about you a great deal… So she cast a spell to protect you. The spell makes it so people don't know you're here unless she tells them you are. They can't see or hear you. Do you understand?"

Neville appeared to be deep in thought for a moment. At least as deep in thought as his four-year-old brain could go. Finally he asked, "But then how can I make new friends if they can't see me?" He looked as if he were about to start crying again but then suddenly his face brightened. "Maybe grandma will introduce us, then he'll be able to see me, right?"

"I suppose there's no harm in trying..." He looked so happy. She didn't want to bring his hopes down, "We'll ask her when she comes over tonight."

Unfortunately, Augusta Longbottom didn't agree. When the subject was broached that evening, the suggestion alone seemed to infuriate her, "Absolutely not! We don't even know these people."

"But Augusta, he's just a boy. Besides, his parents are Muggles. They aren't working for You-Know-Who," Lily objected.

"I dropped by to welcome them to the neighbourhood. They're really nice folks; Even though they are just Muggles," James piped in.

"James!"

"Sorry, no offence to Muggles."

"It doesn't matter. We don't know these people. How can we trust them?"

"Please, Augusta, he doesn't know a single child his age except Harry. He needs to make friends. What happens when the boy comes over to play with Harry? Is he supposed to sit in a corner by himself and wait till he leaves?"

"You're going to invite the child over?"

"Of course, Neville isn't the only one who needs to make new friends. Harry does too. I'm not about to deny him that opportunity."

"Fine, I'll talk to the Muggles and their son. But just this once…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that in canon Harry doesn't get along too well with Colin but the different circumstances of this meeting lend to a better relationship. Sorry if every chapter seems to consist of a confrontation between the Potters and Mrs. Longbottom. She's very protective of Neville. I promise no confrontation in the next chapter though there will be more to come.
> 
> I would like to take this moment to thank my wonderful beta aggiebell her somehow found the time to correct this despite her hectic schedule. I'd also like to thank The Sorting Hat who pre-betaed this chapter for me, and Enero who pointed out an inconsistency in this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

"Do realize how much trouble these new Muggle neighbours are causing?"

"James..."

"No, don't get me wrong, Lil. I think it's great that the boys have a new friend to play with and all, but all the changes we have to make to the wards are giving me a major headache." Lily looked as if she were about to cut him off again but he ignored her warning glare and continued, "I mean, we've got to modify the wards so that they can get in and tone down the charms enough that they can look at the place long enough to notice that their son hasn't disappeared without catching on to all the weird things going on. Honestly, if we could just tell them everything it would make things so much simpler."

"You know we can't do that, not until the boy gets his letter..."

"I know the law, Lil. I personally think it's a stupid one, but... Oh, it's just I'm tired and frustrated and..."

"I know, Hon." She put her arm around him in a comforting gesture, "Anything I can do to help?"

"Not really, I've got it under control. Why don't you go over and welcome our neighbours to the neighbourhood. Invite them over after dinner so Augusta can introduce them to her grandson. Make sure to tell them that the baby is welcome too. Don't want to have to repeat this experience in a few years... I'll watch the boys while you're gone."

That's how it came to be that at about seven o'clock that evening, just as the Potters and Longbottoms were finishing their evening meal, the doorbell of number 5 rang.

Lily rose to answer the door while her husband hurriedly banished the dirty dishes until such a time as they could later be washed. As she greeted their guests in the hall, inviting them in, he made a final last minute check of the room to see that no magical objects were blatantly obvious. That taken care of, he turned to Neville, "Go wait in the next room Neville. Your grandmother is going to tell the neighbours your secret so they can see you but we don't want you to give them a shock by appearing out of thin air."

The small child nodded slowly then scampered out of the room just as Lily led the guests in, "Well, I think some introductions are in order." She turned to her guests, "Why don't you folks start?"

The lady that had just walked in spoke up. "Well, I'm Carla, Carla Creevey. This is my husband Melg," she gestured to the man standing next to her, "my son Colin." The small boy at her feet squirmed uncomfortably as attention turned to him. "And the newest addition to the family, Dennis. I'm afraid he's asleep at the moment, but..."

"There's no need to wake him," Lily cut her off. "I know quite well how they can be at that age." After a short pause, she continued with the introductions, "I believe you've already met my husband, James. This is my son Harry. I believe he and Colin have already met. Haven't you boys?" she inquired. When neither volunteered an answer she continued, "This is Augusta Longbottom, a friend of the family..."

"Oh, and you mustn't forget my grandson Neville," Augusta cut her off. It was important that she be the one to say this part. "He lives here with the Potters. Would have taken him in myself but circumstances conspired to make it impossible. Oh dear, where's he gone and hidden? He's such a shy boy." She raised her voice, allowing it to carry further, "Neville?" He popped his head in from the adjoining room and approached shyly. "Oh there you are boy. Come over and say hello to the Creeveys. Their eldest is just a year younger than you."

Neville looked down at his feet and murmured, "Pleased to meet you." Then wandering over to where Lily was standing he asked in a very hushed voice, "What does eldest mean?"

She smiled down at him reassuringly missing the glare that the boy's grandmother sent her way. "It just means oldest child. Now why don't the three of you run along and play? Go on."

When the three had scampered off, she turned to her guests and asked, "Would you fancy a spot of tea? I think it should be just about ready." Not waiting for an answer she turned to get the tea from the kitchen.

They were all still standing around in awkward silence when she returned moments later. "There's no need to stand around in silence like that. Do sit down. Honestly, a bunch of grown people can't carry on a conversation without a moderator." She set the tea down and started to pour it into one of the cups she had brought with her. Handing it to Mrs. Creevey she said "Here you go Carla. Help yourself to the cream and sugar." Starting on the second she asked politely, "What is it that you do for a living Melg?"

He accepted the cup she offered him and replied simply, "I'm a milkman."

"Really? I expect you're used to fresh milk then. I'm afraid what I have isn't... What about you Carla?" She'd passed a third cup to Augusta and started on a fourth when Carla responded, blushing lightly.

"I, well I never went back to work after Dennis was born. I worked as a secretary for a while after Colin came around but then..."

Lily handed a cup to her husband. "No need to be embarrassed. I never went back to work myself, after Harry was born. The boys are quite a handful." She sat down, having finished pouring her own cup. "Not that my husband is any better. He and his friends are always pulling pranks around the house. Never grew up."

"Hey!" James feigned insult.

"Don't give me that. You know it's true. Well then, what brings you to the neighbourhood?" The conversation carried on for quite a bit, prodded often by Lily, seeing that the two groups didn't seem to know what to talk about.

The children, on the other hand, didn't have any problem starting a conversation on their own. As soon as they left the company of the grown-ups their shyness seemed to evaporate. Turning to Harry, Colin said, in his high pitched voice, "I thought Neville was your imaginary friend..."

Harry giggled. "Nah, Neville's not imaginary. He's as real as you and me."

The confused look that had dominated his face the previous afternoon returned, "Then why couldn't I see him yesterday?"

"Well you see, Gran cast this spell so no one could find me and..." Neville told Colin the story that Lily had told him the day before. It didn't occur to him that he shouldn't after all.

Colin, being a three-year old with plenty of imagination, accepted the story. Then they had a splendid conversation about Colin's imaginary friend and the reason why they had left his old neighbourhood behind. It seemed that Colin had had a certain bout of magic at his babysitter's and started a bit of a scandal which led to his mum quitting work to stay home and take care of him... All this was said in the light-hearted, excited tone of a child who has plenty to say. In fact, Colin did most of the talking that first night but by the time his parents came to fetch him, the three boys had become good friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you were going to ask, though I seriously doubt it, I was trying to make a pun with Melg Creevey's name. It's a name of Indo-European background that supposedly means milk. I just thought I'd throw that in.
> 
> I would also like to take this moment to thank my wonderful beta for her help on this chapter. I made quite a lot of stupid mistakes and yet she still got it back to me incredibly quickly...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to credit ER Queen of Insanity at FFN with some of the ideas that appear in this chapter.

Colin came over bright and early the next morning. Well, not incredibly early, the boys were already up and outside, after all. But it was early enough that he seemed to exude even more energy than he had the first time they'd met. "I asked mum if I could come and play and she said okay, as long as I didn't wander off too far or you were too busy to keep me company. You're not too busy are you?"

Neville answered, "No."

"We were just trying to decide what to play," added Harry.

"What do you want to play?" asked Neville.

"What about tag?" Colin suggested.

"We can't play tag,"

Before Harry could explain why they couldn't play tag, Neville cut him off and finished for him, "We're not enough people for tag."

Colin giggled, "You guys are funny."

Twin looks of confusion crossed the boys' faces, "Huh?" queried Harry.

"Why are we funny?" asked Neville.

"You finish each other's sentences," the younger boy explained. "My cousins do that too. But they're twins."

"Oh." The looks of confusion dissipated, "We're not twins," replied Harry

"We're not even related," added Neville

"But we do spend a lot of time together," finished Harry. "Neville's been living with us for a long time. Since we were babies."

"Like Dennis?"

"Who's Dennis?" asked Neville.

"He's my baby brother. Sometimes mum lets me hold him. He sleeps a lot," Colin explained matter-of-factly, quite proud at being bigger than his brother and no longer needing to sleep so much.

"Really? It's just me and Neville here, and we're almost exactly the same age."

"I'm older," piped in Neville.

"By _one_ day," countered Harry. Then turning to Colin he whispered, "He never lets me forget it."

Not wanting to be excluded any further from the conversation, Neville changed the topic, "So what are we going to play?"

"What about hide and go seek?" Colin suggested. It was his favourite game to play, but he hadn't had anyone to play it with since his mum had taken him out of daycare.

"We need more people for that too," replied Neville.

Noticing the disappointed look on Colin's face, Harry added, "But maybe we can play some other time. We play sometimes when Sirius and Remus come over."

"But Sirius cheats," Neville pouted.

"He peeks? At daycare they made us wear blindfolds so we couldn't peek." Colin said, proud of his solution, even if it wasn't really his.

"No, he doesn't peek, he turns into Padfoot and sniffs us out," Harry explained as if this were the only way of cheating and quite obvious.

"How does he do that? I don't smell.. well not unless I wet myself, and I haven't done that in ages. Dennis is smelly sometimes though… What's a pafoot?" The boys had once more succeeded in confusing him.

"I don't know how he does it," replied Harry.

"It's magic," offered Neville, cutting off before he could explain what Padfoot was.

"Padfoot is what dad and Remus call him when he turns into a dog," continued Harry.

"Dogs have a very good nose. They can smell children," added Neville.

"But you can't tell anyone about Padfoot," warned Harry.

"It's a secret," explained Neville.

"Okay," replied Colin, still slightly confused. But it was magic, after all, and magic couldn't always be explained. So instead of asking more questions about Padfoot, he asked instead, "So what are we going to play?"

The boys sat several minutes in silence, thinking. Even Colin didn't move for three whole minutes, despite the energy balled up inside him. Finally, Harry broke the silence, "I have an idea, let's play Aurors and Dark wizards"

"What's that?" the muggle-born wizard asked.

But neither of the other two boys knew how to explain. Instead, Lily who had been watching the entire discourse replied, "It's kind of like cop and robbers, but you play with magic wands."

"I don't have a magic wand…" Colin pointed out. It was starting to occur to him that he and his new friends were different from each other.

Harry, noting Colin's concern replied, "Neither do I, but dad promised me and Neville a toy one for Christmas. It's supposed to be really cool. It makes real sparks and everything. But we can just play with sticks."

"Come on, it'll be fun," Neville piped as he and Harry dragged him off to find straight sticks, explaining the game as they went.

Now as often happens when little boys, or little girls for that matter, start playing their little games and enter into the realm of their imaginations, they eventually lost track of time. The sun was high in the sky by the time they stopped playing and even then they only stopped because Mrs. Creevey called Colin in for lunch. Otherwise they would have likely continued until the sun sank so low in the sky that they could no longer see what they were doing. Or perhaps they would have stopped when their stomachs began gnawing in hunger…

But as things stand, Carla called her son in at about noon and he returned home rather reluctantly mumbling, "Bye, I'll see you later okay?" to his friends.

Lunch was on the table when Colin entered the house but before he could sit himself down and dig in, he was ushered to the washroom. "Don't you even think of eating with those dirty hands of yours. Go wash them first and be sure to use soap. Your friends can wait a few minutes longer. Besides they're probably eating too. You're not missing anything."

Sure enough, the two older boys were also being called in to eat. Of course, this fact was not enough to stop Colin from protesting about being forced to wash before lunch and he finally did so only reluctantly.

He returned, not quite clean, but cleaner than he had left. His mum, nodding her approval at his improved appearance asked, as he sat down to eat, "So what were you boys playing anyway that you were so reluctant to come and eat?"

Forgetting that he was upset at her for calling him in, Colin rattled off his tale in his ever excited tone, "We were playing the coolest game. It was like cops and robbers except we used magic wands instead of guns, but they weren't real wands. They were just sticks but Harry's mum has a real wand and I saw her use it and she hung the laundry up without even touching it and we cast magic spells too but they weren't really magic spells. They were just pretend and Neville says he can't wait to go Hogwarts because then he can learn real magic and get a real wand and he says I can go too and…" The young boy rattled on for quite some time, amazing his mum with his ability to go on for so long without stopping to breathe. He told her quite a bit of what he had heard about the magical world as well but all that really registered in her mind was that her son had finally found friends that rivalled him in the imagination department.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would also like to thank my beta Aggiebell for working through the holiday weekend to get this back to me in record time and for catching all the mistakes I made…


	7. Chapter 7

As fate would have it, the boys didn't get to finish their game that afternoon. The heavens sent rain down while they were eating and the weather still hadn't let up by the time they were tucked into their beds that night. In fact, it was still raining the next morning when the three awoke in their separate beds and they were each forced to spend the day indoors. By the third afternoon of the downpour, Lily had become quite frustrated with the boys' whining that they wanted to play with Colin. They had only known each other a day, after all.

Still, Lily decided that the best thing to do in order to calm them down would be to call Mrs. Creevey and invite the boy over. Naturally, it simply wouldn't do to give them a fire call. So instead, Lily picked up the muggle telephone that she still used to call old friends and dialled the muggle phone number that Carla had given her three days earlier.

After three rings someone at the other end picked up, "Hello?"

"Hello, Carla? This is Lily Potter, from next door."

"Yes of course. How are you?"

"I'm very well, thanks. How are you? I take it you're still busy unpacking."

"Dear me, it's a disaster area over here. So many boxes…"

Lily gave a sympathetic sigh, "Yes I remember when we moved here, with Harry a little under a year old and He-Who-Mu– but you don't want to know about that… I'm actually calling because the boys have been asking after Colin and… I was wondering if you'd mind my having over for the day?"

"Mind? You'd be doing me a favour. Are you sure he wouldn't be a bother."

"Nonsense, I'll be over to pick him up. I know you have the little one the keep an eye on."

"Thanks, I'll see you in a bit. Bye."

"Bye"

Hanging up the phone, Lily turned to the boys who were sitting not far away, listening to her side of the conversation. "Come on boys, get your umbrellas, we're going to get your friend.

Although the umbrellas that they each got out looked exactly like muggle umbrellas on the outside they were charmed so as to prevent the people they covered from getting wet at all and could even be used in handless mode, hovering above a witch or wizard whose hands were otherwise occupied. In fact, The boys had been out in the yard with them the previous day, playing in the puddles and had come in completely dry. Unfortunately they'd also come in covered in dry and caked mud from the puddles they had intentionally jumped in…

Making sure that the boys were following close behind her, Lily made her way over to the house next door. She paused for a moment as they reached the edge of the Potter's property and considered the fact that once they crossed the invisible barrier that surrounded the house, Neville would be perfectly visible, something which could possibly put him in danger. She didn't pause for long though. They couldn't keep the boy cooped up forever, much as Augusta seemed to want to. What harm could be the harm in a short trip next door in a muggle neighbourhood accompanied by a fully trained and competent witch?

And so, before long they had rung the doorbell of the neighbouring house, collected Colin, and were once more in the safety of the dry kitchen of Number 5.

Now faced with the dilemma of how to occupy three young boys, Lily came up with the suggestion, "Let's bake cookies." Naturally, there wasn't much that two four-year-olds and a three-year-old could do to help out but they were quite content to just watch her bake, anticipating the delicious warm cookies that they would later be getting.

Colin in particular watched in awe as Lily baked. He had never seen anything quite like cooking being done with a little helping hand of magic. Even her magical display a few days earlier with the laundry hadn't been enough to prepare him. Finally, after several minutes of watching, he asked the question that had been building up inside him ever since they had moved, "Are you a witch?" It had taken him a while to even consider the question and still longer to become convinced that he was right. But by the time he asked he was so convinced that even if she had laughed him off and denied it, he would have remained stuck in his belief.

However, Lily had no intention of laughing the incident off. Having grown up as a muggle herself, She was well aware of the culture shock involved in learning about the existence of the Wizarding World at age eleven. She considered it her duty to inform him about the world of magic, seeing as his parents were completely clueless in that regard. Her desire to prepare him had actually been part of her motive for wanting the boys to be able to make friends with him. She was convinced, after all, that he was a wizard and as such would have to learn the truth eventually. The fact that she had yet to receive a warning from the Ministry about performing magic in front of muggles, simply reinforced her belief.

So rather than laugh, she answered simply, "Yes, I am."

Despite his convictions, it was quite obvious from his reaction that he was not expecting her frank response. His own mum would have surely laughed at him or else grin in that strange way only grown-ups can and shake her head, had he asked her the same question. So, for the first time since he had learned to talk, Colin was speechless. It was several seconds before he recovered enough to respond, "But, but…Mum says … she says there's no such thing as…as magic…"

At this point Lily let out a light-hearted giggle, "Of course your mum would say that, though I'm surprised she broke it to you so soon… Your mum's a Muggle. She doesn't know anything about magic, well not about it being real anyway. No, magic is very real, just not everyone can do it."

"What's a muggle?" Colin asked shyly.

"Muggle is what magic folk call people who can't do magic," she replied.

"Am I a muggle?" Colin was suddenly concerned that he was doomed to be excluded from all the adventures and interesting things his friends had told him about.

"Merlin, no. I wouldn't be telling you this if you were, now would I?" The boy just stared blankly. "You're a wizard, though your parents, like mine, are muggles. In fact, it's probably best if you don't tell anyone, not that they would believe you, but it might cause problems when you're older. Of course, you mustn't try too hard to cover things up with your parents. They need a few hints along the way or they'll be completely shocked when you get your letter. I still remember when I got mine... I was shocked, my parents were shocked, my sister… well she was just plain jealous." When Lily looked up at the boy, she noticed that his eyes had glossed over in confusion. "Ah, I can see I've told you more than enough for one sitting. No need to worry if you don't understand it all right away, with time… Now, you boys run along. There's really nothing for you boys to watch anymore. I'll call you when the cookies are ready. You can get out a board game in the meantime."

Harry made to protest being sent away, "But, Mum…"

"No 'buts'. There's really nothing to watch here. Go show Colin your 'Snakes & Ladders' board?"

Now, Colin had several board games home. Well mostly they were packed away in boxes, but he remembered playing 'Snakes & Ladders' with his mum at the old house. It was one of his favourites but still he couldn't imagine the board being more excited than cookies. Of course, when Colin thought about board games, he pictured, flat pieces of cardboard and pawns so he quickly changed his mind when he saw what it actually looked like. He certainly wasn't expecting the three-dimensional game with lifelike snakes, toy sized ladders and little men that walked, climbed, and slid. Perhaps the only part of the game that he did recognize was the die that came with it. Within minutes he was as enthralled in the game as he had been the baking. In fact, he didn't hear Lily call them when the cookies were ready, though the others did and refused to continue playing until after they had stuffed themselves. None of them heard the doorbell though, when Colin's father came to fetch him. Yes, the boys were getting to be good friends…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that in canon Colin isn't supposed to know he's a wizard until he gets his Hogwarts letter, but in canon, Lily wasn't around to tell him... 
> 
> I'd like my beta, Aggiebell for working through the weekend to get this back to me and for her wonderful comments.


	8. Chapter 8

Later that evening, when everyone was settling down after dinner, an unexpected, but certainly not unwanted, visitor arrived through the fireplace of the Potter residence. Her unannounced arrival to visit her grandson was so commonplace that when she stepped out of the fireplace James merely looked up from his paper for a moment and greeted her, "Good evening, Augusta" before returning to his evening reading.

She in turn responded, "Good evening, James" before turning to the boys and saying, "Good evening, Neville, come over here and give me a hug." He came over slowly, neither rushing to greet her nor shying away. Her relationship with the boy could hardly be considered that of a doting grandmother, but nor was she unduly severe, most of the time anyway. Rather, they had a loving if overly protective relationship.

While Augusta pulled Neville into an embrace, Harry remained seated where he was, not wanting to intrude, and waited his turn. Harry always received just as much love from her as her own grandson, without all the overdone paranoid protection. When she called him to her, "What about you Harry? Come over here and give Augusta a hug." Harry dutifully rose to greet the old lady, allowing himself to be pulled into a warm embrace.

Finally, she released her hold on the two boys and enquired, "So what did you two do today? Have you been up to no good?"

Both boys shook their heads energetically. "This morning, me and Harry played– "

"Harry and I" Augusta corrected, interrupting Neville's narrative.

Neville bowed his head in apology, "Sorry, Harry and I played with our action figures, and then…and then…" Neville trailed off mid-sentence, unable to continue. He wasn't one to stammer normally but it made him nervous when his grandmother corrected him and he often found himself at a loss for words.

Harry picked off where the other boy had left off, "Then after lunch, we went next door to pick up Colin so we could…" Harry too trailed off noticing that the woman's face had suddenly turned red and she looked like she might blow up like the time he'd told her that Daddy had taken them flying. Both boys backed away, frightened that they had upset her.

But her rage was not directed at them. She swivelled around violently, turning to face Lily, then let loose a torrent, "YOU DID WHAT?"

Lily, who had been listening to the conversation, replied, shaking slightly, "I simply took the boys next door when I went to pick up their playmate."

"YOU TOOK HIM OFF THE PROPERTY WHERE ANYONE COULD SEE HIM!" she continued to yell.

James, wisely rose from where he was sitting and made his way over to the boys. Ushering them from the room. "Come on, boys. Let's go upstairs. I'll read you a story." As soon as he had gotten them out of the room, he cast a silencing spell on the room. Then, sending his wife a pitying look, he followed the boys upstairs.

At this point Lily was yelling too, "WHAT WOULD YOU RATHER, THAT I HAD LEFT THEM ALONE IN THE HOUSE?"

"You needn't have invited the boy over in the first place," the other countered.

"The boys wanted to see him." Lily explained.

"Do you give them everything they want?" the older woman demanded.

"No of course not." Then seeing that she wasn't going to win the argument this way, she continued, "What am I supposed to do? Keep the child under house arrest?"

"Only till he's older."

"Older? He's already four years old. Next year he'll be needing to start school. No matter how old he gets, you'll always think he's too young."

"He's still a boy."

"Exactly, he has to get out. Most kids his age have playmates. They get out of the house, visit the park…"

"The yard is big enough. He's got Harry to play with."

"It's not enough. Besides he was perfectly safe. We only went next door. I was there the whole time with him."

"Still, he could have been seen."

"We're in the middle of a Muggle neighbourhood. There isn't another wizarding family in the whole town. Who would have seen him?"

"Muggle neighbourhood or not, this is Godric's Hollow. There _are_ other wizarding families in town. You can never be too careful…"

"Yes you can, the boy needs to be able to live a normal life. We can't keep him completely sheltered and locked up."

"He's not a normal boy…"

"But he _is_ , of what he has given the world, regardless of the power he wields, regardless of his magical potential, he is still just a boy, a boy with a right to a normal childhood. I know you want to protect him Augusta, but you have to let him live. Trust me. Let me take him out of the house, let him have a life. We don't have to take the charm off. I won't be careless about his safety. Trust me…" It seemed that she had finally gotten through.

Augusta conceded reluctantly, but everything in her tone and posture suggested that she would make her regret it if anything should happen to her grandson.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Neville, having allowed himself to be ushered away from the row, turned to James and asked, "James, why is Gran upset?"

"Well…you see…umm…remember the spell your Gran cast on you to protect you from evil wizards?" Neville nodded and he continued, "so she cast this spell, right? The thing is…the spell only works if you stay on our property…see? And so when Lily took you next door to see Colin, you weren't invisible. People could see you. And, well… your Gran, she worries about you. She doesn't want you to get hurt and so she's upset that Lily took you out. Do you understand?"

Neville nodded in response as Harry asked shyly, "Were we in danger?"

"No, no, of course not," James tried to reassure him, "but that doesn't stop Neville's Gran from worrying." Neville tried to smile but he was still shaken up from hearing the two women yelling. Both boys were. James, held out both his arms and pulled the children into a warm embrace, "There, there… everything will be fine. It'll all work out." Then releasing them he added, "Now go on and pick out a book for me to read to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my beta Aggiebell for her work on this chapter (and all the ones that came before…).


	9. Chapter 9

The sun came up the next day and things returned to normal, or whatever passed for normal in the Potter household... There was now a third child underfoot but that hardly changed anything in the household. Rather, it was the extra child with the changes to deal with. To his credit, Colin took it all in stride and adjusted quite admirably to the weird happenings of number 5, and came to expect things to act the way that they did at the Potter’s. One morning, he even asked his mum why the toast didn’t come out of their toaster with the jelly already on it, like it did next door. She just smiled and answered, "They must have an extra special toaster," while dismissing the notion as the product of overactive imagination and that of his peers, something she found herself doing quite often of late.

A strong friendship was blossoming between the three and before long they became nearly inseparable. True, the bond between the two older boys was stronger than any bond the three could ever share but they accepted the younger boy openly and unconditionally. They found his ignorance of all things magical amusing and took it upon themselves to educate him. Naturally, their own knowledge was limited and often inaccurate, but, with nothing to compare to, Colin certainly didn’t notice.

Sirius, during a visit one Saturday afternoon, commented to James and Remus, "They remind me of us, except we didn’t meet till we were eleven," uncharacteristically deep in thought.

The comment stirred up memories of their own school days, of their marauding, the four of them... Thinking of the four of them inevitably led to thoughts of Peter which...and without realising it, James found himself saying, "Let’s hope they don’t admit a Wormtail into their midst." The discussion ended there, none of the three wanting to discuss their betrayal as they were each pulled into gloomy thoughts, unable to come up with a new topic for discussion. They probably would have remained that way quite a while longer than they did if the three young boys had not grown bored of their current game and decided to drag them into a game of hide-and-go-seek.

Of course, not all the summer days ended with the toddlers engaging the Marauders in their play. After all, not every day is Saturday. Most days were spent with Lily as the only adult supervision. Other days, the children played over at the Creevey’s but such instances were rare. Not only was it safer for them to remain where she could supervise, but Lily insisted that it was only fair that she did the bulk of the babysitting. She had to argue her case quite frequently with Colin’s mother, but her argument was always the same, "Two of the three are mine to watch. I can’t expect you to deal with two extra children, not to mention you’ve got another still in diapers to worry about. That in itself ought to be more than a handful." Eventually, Carla simply stopped putting up a fuss about it.

So the children spent most of their time at number 5, and Lily never had a chance to make good of the battle she had won with Augusta Longbottom, allowing her to take the boys out on outings. In fact, the days had begun to grow short and the leaves in the trees had begun to change their colours before she proposed a trip.

At breakfast, Lily greeted them cheerily, "I’ve got a treat for you today."

The boys both took her comment quite literally but Neville was the first to exclaim, "Cookies!"

Lily giggled at the suggestion, "No, not that kind of treat."

Quite excited now and unable to contain his excitement, Harry exclaimed, "Chocolate!" They rarely got chocolate, except on special occasions.

Lily giggled once more, "No, no. Nothing you can eat," then noting their confusion, she added, "We’re going to the zoo."

Both faces brightened, but Harry was the one to ask, "Really?"

She nodded affirmatively. Then Neville asked the question that had begun puzzling him with her affirmation, "But there’s no zoo in the house? Or on the lawn?"

Not quite sure what he was getting at, Lily responded, "No, of course not."

"But we’re not allowed to leave the lawn," continued the youngster.

Seeing where Neville was going, Harry added sadly, "You said so."

Lily giggled once more, "Yes, I suppose I did, but I’ll be with you so it’s ok. Besides, I let you go next door, don’t I?"

Harry seemed reassured by this but Neville asked, "Me too?"

"Yes, of course, you too. I wouldn’t take only Harry. Where he goes you go. Where you go he goes," Lily tried to reassure him.

"But, Gran..." he trailed off.

Lily smiled wryly. So the boy was starting to notice his grandmother’s overprotective tendencies. "I spoke to your grandmother. We reached an agreement."

"What’s an agreement?" This time it was Harry that spoke up.

"An agreement is when two people agree," realizing that her explanation was hardly adequate, she added, "when they both think something is ok."

"Oh," he seemed reassured now that he would not be excluded from the outing and finally thought to wonder about his newest friend, "Is Colin coming too?"

"No, he went with his mum and his brother to visit his aunt. Remember? Today it’ll just be the three of us."

Both boys’ cheery expressions dropped, clearly disappointed but Lily chastised them, "Don’t give me that. We’ll have lots of fun. It’ll be an adventure."

If wasn’t long before they were out the front door. Lily had packed a picnic lunch a was planning on making a day of the outing. When they reached the end of the street and stopped before crossing the intersection, Harry looked back the way they had come. "Is something wrong, darling?" Lily asked when he did not immediately follow as she began to cross the street.

"No, it’s just that the house looks small from here. Did it shrink?"

Lily giggled, "Don’t worry about that Harry. It’s just because we’re far from it. Things look smaller from far."

"So it didn’t shrink?" he asked, once more.

"No, it didn’t shrink," she reassured him.

"Will it look even smaller when we get to the zoo?" asked Neville

"We won’t be able to see it from the zoo."

"Why not?" he implored.

"Will it become invisible like Neville?" suggested Harry.

"No, no," Lily smiled, "We won’t see it because there will be buildings in the way. They’ll hide it.

"Hide it? Like the Easter hunt? Or like hide-and-go-seek?" queried Harry.

"No quite. You know how there is a house in back of ours?" both boys nodded. "Can you see that house when you’re in the front yard?"

"No," they answered together.

"Well, it’s like that. We won’t see the house because there will be other houses between us and our house. Do you understand?" When they both nodded she continued, "Well, lets get going now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, once again to my wonderful beta Aggiebell.


	10. Chapter 10

The next time they stopped, several blocks later, it was Lily that called the halt. Naturally the boys assumed that they had reached their destination.

"Are we there?" asked Neville.

"I don't see any animals," complained Harry.

"No we aren't there yet. Don't worry, there will be animals at the zoo," Lily reassured. They continued to stand at the corner where they had stopped for several minutes before Lily's thoughts were once more interrupted by the curious and confused four-year-olds accompanying her.

"Why are we standing here?" asked Neville.

"Are we waiting to cross the street?" ventured Harry. He had noticed a lot more of the big moving things--cars, Lily had called them--on this street than the others they had crossed. Perhaps since she had warned against running in front of them, they were waiting for them to go away.

But Lily wasn't following the same logic as her son. "No, we're waiting for the bus," she replied, "so we don't have to walk all the way to zoo."

This answer was of course inadequate for a boy that had never taken a bus before and had never heard them mentioned before. "What's a bus?" he asked.

"Is it like a broom?" Neville suggested. She had said it would get them to the zoo without having to walk, "Or like a Portkey?"

"It's not really like either of those things, Neville. Those things work with magic. A bus is a Muggle thing, though we did steal the idea from them. It's a lot like the cars you've seen, except it's bigger so a lot of people can get on. Do you understand?" Both boys nodded just as the bus arrived. "Well then, let's get on. Watch your step."

The bus ride itself was uneventful--well aside from the endless chatter of the two boys--and soon it was time to get off. "Come on, boys. This is our stop. We're almost there now." Lily's comment about them being near their destination instigated a new round of questions from the two increasingly excited boys.

"Are we going to see dragons?" Harry asked.

"They don't keep dragons in the zoo, darling, especially not a Muggle zoo."

Neville looked disappointed, "So no unicorns?"

Lily shivered at the thought of a confined unicorn, such pure creatures. "No, of course not. You can't lock up a unicorn," she responded, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice. It was just an innocent question. The boys didn't know about the purity of unicorns and the injustices they had suffered in the past at the hands of Muggle hunters, part of the reason they avoided male humans so entirely.

"No owls?" queried Harry, not really expecting a positive response.

To his surprise, he got one, "There should be owls, all different kinds. Some you've probably never seen before."

"Do they keep them in cages?" asked Neville, confused. Animals in zoos were supposed to be in cages, right? At least that was what he had heard.

Lily nodded, "Yes, although some of them are kept behind glass."

Harry had evidently caught on to Neville's train of thought, "Then how do they deliver post?"

Lily answered bluntly, trying to diffuse further questioning, "They don't."

"But..." The two boys protested as one.

Lily cut them off, "They aren't post owls. They belong to the zoo."

Unable to fathom any reason for owning an owl other than to deliver post, Harry protested once more, "Doesn't the zoo use them for post?"

Frustrated, Lily replied, "No."

"Oh," the idea finally sinking in--or so it seemed--he asked, "Then how do they deliver their post?"

"Do they use public owls?" suggested Neville.

So maybe they hadn't quite understood yet. Lily paused trying to figure out how to explain to them, "No it's a Muggle zoo. Muggles don't use owls to deliver their post. They use Muggle post."

Neville asked, "They don't use owls? Why?" just as Harry queried, "Muggle post? What's that?"

Lily laughed, it wasn't often that the boys didn't think along the same train of thought. "Slow down boys. I can't answer all your questions at once." She took a moment to organize her thoughts before responding, "Muggles don't know that owls can deliver post so thy had to come up with a way to deliver post themselves. They set up a whole system to deliver their post."

"The Muggles deliver it themselves?" asked Neville.

Hearing this and recalling that owls delivered post by flying from one place to another, Harry exclaimed, "Muggles can fly?"

Not quite understanding what he was getting at, Lily responded, "No, of course not. What does that have to do with delivering post?"

By now Harry and Neville were once more on the same wavelength and it was the latter that asked the question, "If they can't fly, how do they deliver post?"

Lily laughed at this twisted wizard logic, "You don't need to fly to deliver post. The Muggle postman delivers it, with a truck."

"A truck?"

"It's like a car but only one person rides in it and the back is big so there's lots of space the store the post," Lily expanded.

Finally understanding--or at least pretending to understand--Harry asked, "Is that how Colin's parents deliver their post? They don't have an owl."

"Yes, it is," Lily replied relieved, that the topic had finally run dry--or so she thought.

"But Colin's not a Muggle," Neville protested.

"Why don't they use owl post?" asked Harry.

"No, Colin isn't a Muggle, but his parents are, so they use Muggle post. They don't know about owl post," she attempted to explain.

"Why don't we tell them?" suggested Neville.

"We're not allowed, not until Colin gets his Hogwarts letter." She might not agree with the law but there wasn't much she could do about it.

"Oh," was the response, and just like that the conversation was over.

Of course, the quiet didn't last long. Less than a minute later, Harry asked the question that annoys parents everywhere, both Muggle and magic, "Are we there yet?"

Lily, who hadn't had much occasion to hear the question in the past, responded far more good-naturedly than many would, "Almost, you can see it from here."

As they reached the gates to the zoo, she called them to a halt and said, "Now remember, this place is full of Muggles so we don't talk about magic."

Both boys nodded solemnly and the trio walked up to the ticket booth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, once again to my wonderful beta Aggiebell.


	11. Chapter 11

If it weren't for the fact that she held the hands of both boys firmly upon walking through the gates to the zoo gates, Lily would have lost them both within minutes. Doing what they were told had never been their forte, and considering their excitement, they certainly couldn't be bothered to follow the simple instruction, "Stay near me."

There were naturally plenty of animals to see, many more, in fact, than there was time to see in a single day. They started the day with the lions --Lily _was_ a Gryffindor after all, and the zoo wasn't likely to have any actual griffins -- and the young mother found herself as enthralled as the boys by the mighty roar they were graced with, though she certainly didn't squeal in response. Her awe lasted only as long as it took the boys too stop squealing and inquire, "Why did they shave that lion's hair off?" in regards to the one of the lionesses. They moved on to the next big cat while Lily tried to formulate her answer.

After all, it wasn't the animals themselves that made the morning trying. No that honour was reserved for the hundreds of questions the boys sent her way. Some questions were easy: "What's that, mum?" Some were slightly harder: "What's the difference between a crocodile and an alligator, Lily?" Some were challenging: "Mum, why do zebras have stripes?", "Why does that bird have its head in the ground?". Some were ridiculous: "Why doesn't the crocodile grow wings and fly away?" Some were funny: "If storks deliver babies, who delivers baby storks?" That last one really caught her by surprise, since she knew for a fact that neither she nor James had ever mentioned storks as the world's source of babies.

Then of course there was the bloodcurdling moment when the boys asked if they could go play ball with the bears, who were playing lazily in the sun. At least they hadn't tried to jump in with the crocodiles whose enclosure they could have conceivably gotten themselves into, a fact that caused her to increase her grip on their hands as they walked past.

By the time lunch rolled around they'd seen only a fraction of what the zoo had to offer. Lily's voice was hoarse from answering questions, and neither boy seemed interested in slowing down or at least letting up on the questions. Only by promising ice cream later in the afternoon was she able to convince them to settle down to eat.

Even then, she barely had a moment to sit down and take in a deep breath, let alone eat, before they were dragging her out of her seat and nagging to get back to the exhibits. Neville practically begged to see the snakes next, a suggestion Lily didn't quite understand. Wanting to get out of the midday sun, Lily elected, leaving no room for objection from the boys, that they visit the indoor exhibits for nocturnal animals, which were kept in relative darkness in the day and lit at night, insuring that they'd be most active during visiting hours.

The first thing they saw there were the bats about which Harry inquired, "Are those vampires, mum?"

Before Lily could respond, Neville added, "Like Snivellus?"

Taken aback, Lily's original response died on her lips, "Snivellus?"

Harry answered for his brother, "Dad said he was a 'greasy git' that went to school with you, and that he liked to lurk in the dungeons cause he was a vampire, and --"

"That's enough Harry. Firstly, Severus Snape may have been a rude man, but he was not and is not a vampire. You will not go around insulting him, either. He is a professor at Hogwarts now and deserves your respect. Secondly, those bats are not vampires. There aren't any magical creatures in the zoo."

Lily didn't get any more uncomfortable questions until the final nocturnal exhibit where the boys became enthralled by the zoo's Barred Owl. It was Neville that popped the question, "Can we get an owl like that one, Lily?" to which she responded, "No dear, they only live in America," hoping in vain that they wouldn't ask what America was...

When Lily finally the boys to visit the snakes, the first words out of Harry's mouth --after "Wow", that is --were, "Is that really a snake? How come the ones in our garden aren't that big?"

Lily attempted to explain to Harry that big snakes like that only lived in the rainforest, and then answer his questions as to what exactly a rainforest was, explaining that the trees in said forests were not in fact made of rain but rather that it rained a lot. That response prompted the question as to whether or not snakes could swim, which was followed up by a query as to why they didn't drown in the rainforest...

While this was going on, Neville turned to the snake behind the glass and greeted it, "Hello."

To most human ears, had anyone been paying attention, the greeting sounded like a random hiss, no different from when the boys had tried quacking at the ducks or roaring at the lions. But the snake understood his words, and, unlike Lily who was still trying to field Harry's questions, was paying attention to the human child. So, despite its shock at being addressed by a human, it responded, "Hello."

Neville hadn't really been expecting an answer he could understand, so naturally he was surprised. Interrupting Lily's explanation of habitats, he commented, "I didn't all know snakes could talk."

Not knowing exactly what the child was talking about, but glad for the respite from the dead-end conversation she was currently having with Harry, she answered him, "They can't."

Neville, however, was quite sure he hadn't imagined the whole thing and insisted, "But the snake just said hello to me...I heard it."

Lily paled in response, "Are you sure?"

Determined to prove his point, and wondering why grown-ups never believed him or Harry --so what if they were always making things up? They still told the truth sometimes. Grown-ups should know the difference--he replied, "Yes, listen," then turning back to the snake said, "I'm Neville, what's your name?" Lily paled further as she heard him hissing.

The snake's response, which only Neville could understand, was, "I don't have a name."

Neville turned back to Lily, "Isn't that sad?"

"Isn't what sad?" Lily tried to hide her concern at the display, and failing miserably.

"That he doesn't have a name."

"Did he tell you that?" she asked, fearing the answer.

The confused boy responded, "Of course, you didn't hear him?"

"No I didn't. Not many people can talk to snakes, Neville. It's a very rare gift." _It's also a gift associated with evil_ she added to herself. _Of course I don't believe that stuff, but it's frightening nonetheless._

Harry chose this moment to speak up, interrupting her train of distressing thought, "Can people really talk to snakes, Mum? Colin and I thought he was making it up."

Lily turned to her son, "Making what up, Harry?"

"About talking to the garden snake. He said it was a magic talking snake, but we didn't believe him."

She turned once more to Neville and asked, "You've spoken to snakes before?"

Neville squirmed uncomfortably, "Yeah, but it was a magic snake. You said the animals in the zoo weren't magic."

"Did the garden snake tell you it was magic?"

"No, but I thought it must be, cause snakes aren't supposed to talk."

Lily sighed, as tempting as it was to explain the situation away as the work of magical snakes, which certainly did exist but were rare, it didn't ring true. Besides the snake before her was undeniably of the non-magical variety. "We don't have any magic snakes in our garden, Neville. It's you that's special, not the snakes. But just so we can be sure, can you do me a favour?" He nodding slowly. Glancing at the plaque on the glass she said, "Ask it if it's a girl or a boy"

Neville nodded again, more quickly this time then turned to the snake and asked, "Are you a boy snake or girl snake?"

The snake seemed to take offence at the question and answered curtly, "I'm male, thank you very much."

Neville turned back to Lily and relayed the message, "It says it's male. What does male mean Lily?"

Lily paled further, there was no doubt now, "It means it's a boy."

"So he can really talk to snakes?" Harry asked once more.

"Yes, he can really talk to snakes." Thankfully there was no one else around within hearing distance.

"Is it supposed to sound like he's hissing when he talks to them?" he asked, curious, "cause all I heard was hissing."

"I think so, the hissing means something to him and the snake. It's snake language."

Harry asked, "Do all animals have their own language that they talk in?" just as Neville asked "I was hissing?"

"Slow down, boys. One at a time. Yes, Neville, you were hissing. Some people think they do, Harry, but because people can't understand animals talking we can't know for sure."

"But I was just talking normal," Neville insisted.

"To you it sounded normal, but Harry and I just heard hissing."

"So I can talk a different language?" When Lily nodded, he continued, excited, "I can't wait to tell Gran."

A look of horror crossed Lily's face, "No, no," she replied quickly, "perhaps it would be best if I told her." _What will she say?_ Then changing the subject she suggested, "How about we go get that ice cream I promised? Then we can go to the petting zoo."

"What's a petting zoo?" Already the boys' minds had moved on, but Lily's still dwelt on the incident. How was she going to explain to Augusta?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Arnel who shared some wonderful anecdotes and observations about her own visits to the zoo, most of which I'm afraid to admit I didn't end up using in the end. I'd also like to thank my wonderful beta Aggiebell for her continued hard work.


	12. Chapter 12

By the time Lily returned to number 5 at the end of the day, she was ready to drop.  But she couldn't very well do so. The boys' complaints of hunger served as unpleasant reminders of all that still needed to be done.  And of course, there was still that feeling of foreboding, which had set in since leaving the snake house…

As she opened the door, she was pleasantly surprised by the scent that reached her nose.  The knowledge that she wouldn’t have to cook, as exhausted as she was, brought a brief smile to her face.  The smile didn't last, her mind still running through potential ways of breaking it to Augusta.  Each imagined conversation further convincing her that disaster was imminent.

Suddenly, the mastermind behind the wonderful smell broke through her reverie, “I know you must have had a long day so I wanted to make it easier.  It’s not much but…Why the long face?  What happened?”

But Lily wasn’t quite ready to unload just yet, especially not with the boys listening in.  So she knelt down, gave them each a peck on the forehead and told them to run along and play.  Then she turned to her husband and answered, “Something that would have happened eventually anyways.  At least no one noticed and now we know.”

“Know what?” his response was filled with concern

“I’ll tell you later,” she brushed him off, “I have to call Augusta now. Did you make enough for her to join us?”

“Of course, flower, but…”

“Don’t worry about it dear.  It’s nothing bad.  I just don’t want have same conversation twice.”  That said, she made her way over to the fireplace and threw a pinch of Floo powder in.

“Augusta, I just got home with the boys to the smell of James’ cooking and I know how you love his cuisine.  How would you like to come over for dinner?”

“How could I turn such an offer down?   You really do need to get that man in the kitchen more often.  He’s a wonderful chef…” she let out a sigh, “My own husband was a disaster in the kitchen and Frank…” her voice trailed off.  Then shaking herself out of it she continued, “I’ll see you around six then?”

Lily nodded before pulling her head out of the fire, even more nervous than before.

Dinner itself, was rather uneventful.  The boys jabbered on in turn about their day, taking heed of Lily’s earlier warning not to mention the snake but ignoring all her remonstrations concerning their insistence to speak with their mouths full.  They did eventually stop, however, but that was simply because Augusta intervened with a stern command that they cease such bad show of manners, effectively silencing them completely for the rest of the meal.

In fact, talk of the day out at the zoo did not resume until the boys had been sent away from the table at which point Augusta turned to Lily and said firmly, “There’s something you’re not telling me.”  When Lily made no move to deny the statement she continued, “Something happened today didn’t it?  I was right about it being a bad idea…  You can consider your permission to bring him on outings revoked…”

Lily cause this moment to cut in, “Yes, something happened but it’s not what you think.  It’s not even a bad thing, not really.”  Her comments may not have calmed the older woman down but they did get her attention so Lily pressed on, “I don’t know how to phrase this… I suppose I should start by asking: How far back can you trace Neville’s blood line?”  The question was met with a look of indignation but, having started, Lily felt compelled to press on, “I mean… is there a possibility that he might have some blood of the Slytherin line in him?” 

The flaming shade Augusta’s face took on made it evident that she was approaching the issue from the wrong angle, “Our family roots can be traced to the days of the founders.  I assure you that there is no Slytherin blood in the child.  Whatever do you mean to suggest with such questions?  If you’re trying to tell me my grandson is sneaky you might want to take a look at your own son…”

Sensing another rant on its way, Lily cut her off, “I caught him speaking Parseltongue at the zoo today.

At that comment, Augusta’s fury deflated visibly but she did not calm down completely, “Nonsense, the boy was no doubt merely pretending.  You know children that age… I’m surprised you let yourself get worked up about it…”

“I made sure.”  At the older woman’s questioning look, she clarified, “I asked him if the snake was a boy or girl.  He answered by saying the snake claimed to be male and then asking what male meant.  The snake was male.”

“That doesn’t prove anything”

“It does.”

“There is no way.  I’m positive about his bloodlines. There must be some mistake.”

Lily sighed, “There’s another explanation that occurred to me—but I was hoping I was wrong…What if…? Well, if he doesn’t have Slytherin blood in him, what if the reason he can speak Parseltongue is because You-Know-Who left a part of himself behind in him?”

Augusta gasped. “No…no…please no…no…” was all she managed to get out before breaking into sobs, "he’s all I have…"

In an instant, Lily was by her side, drawing her into a comforting hug, “Now, now there’s no need to get all worked up like that.  I doubt it means anything bad.  He’s not about to become the next Dark Lord.”  This comment brought on renewed sobs, “I only hesitated to suggest it because I’m sure that’s how the media might make it sound.  But we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.  Everything will turn out fine.  I’ll make sure Neville understands how important it is that this remain a secret…  That’s it, no more tears…”

Eventually she did calm down.  Calm enough to safely use the Floo, at any rate.  And where was James during the whole exchange?  He remained sitting in the background puzzling over the dynamics of female emotions and reactions…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my beta Arnel for her work on this chapter and The Sorting Hat for pre-betaing this chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all of you who have tried to tell a story to a four-year-old and found yourself interrupted constantly.

That night after Augusta had left and the boys had settled down for their bedtime story Lily made good on her promise, or at least she tried to. In the place of their usual story she began, “Today at the zoo I told Neville that being able to talk to snakes was an extra special gift but I didn’t tell you boys the whole story about it… So tonight’s story is about the bad wizard who could talk to snakes… But first, let me tell you about the different types of magic in the world. There are many kinds of magic. Some of it is in animals alone--”

“Like dragons?” interrupted Neville.

“Yes, exactly. So some magic--”

“And unicorns?”

“Yes, Harry, unicorns too. There’s other kinds of magic in magical creatures and--”

“Like trolls?”

“And centaurs?”

“Yes, and there’s other kinds of magic in some plants but the--”

“Like roses?”

“No, roses aren’t magic. I meant--”

“What about lilies?”

“No not lilies either. There aren’t any magical plants in our garden but you’ll see plenty at Hogwarts. But as I was saying, the most important magic for wizards is the magic in people--”

“Even Muggles?”

“Yes, even Muggles. They just aren’t able to use their magic.”

“Why not?’”

“Because it’s all locked up inside them where it can’t come out. But our story isn’t about Muggle magic, it’s about a special kind of wizard magic. Wizards and witches are born with different kinds of magic. Some of it comes naturally. Like being able to see some magical creatures or not getting hurt when you fall from high up. But some of it you have to learn and that’s why we send young witches and wizards to Hogwarts, to learn about magic. Now different people might be better at some kinds of magic than others and--”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Neville. It’s part of what makes us all different and special. For example I’m a lot better at Charms than James but he’s better at Transfiguration. Your parents were both very good at Defence.”

“What’s tranfigrasion?”

“Transfiguration; changing the shape of things.”

“Like cutting up paper.”

“Not quite, more like changing sticks into flowers or people into animals. That sort of thing. So as I was saying, we each have our strengths but every once in a while there are witches or wizards born with special magic that most witches and wizards can’t do. For example, they might be able to heal w--”

“But you can heal, Mum!”

“Yes, but I use spells. These people are really rare and can heal people just by touching them. Being able to talk to snakes is another very special magic…”

“So Neville…”

“Yes, exactly. Now the problem with having special magic is that because there are so few of them people think about famous ones and assume that--”

“What does ‘assume’ mean?”

“It means to believe without having any proof. So, as I was saying, people assume they are all the same just because they have the same powers. Just because so many famous witches, who had Healing powers used their--”

“And wizards?”

“Yes, Neville, wizards too…but most of them were witches. Because so many of them are famous for using their magic to help people, if a witch or wizard has Healing power people assume that they are good people even if this isn’t true. Do you boys understand?”

“Yes, Lily.”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Good. Now once upon a time, in a time not so long ago and in a land not so far away there was a very bad wizard. He was so bad, and mean, and scary that most witches and wizards were afraid to say his name for fear that he would show up and kill them. So people lived in fear--”

“What was the bad wizard’s name, Lily?”

“He called himself Vold…Volde…mort. But that wasn’t--”

“Does that mean he’s gonna come now, Mum, cause you said his name?”

“No, he’s been gone for quite a while now. But people lived in fear for a very long time. Now one of the things that made this wizard special was that he could talk to snakes and he used them to do some very bad things because he was such a bad person. He had this one very big snake that went everywhere with him.”

“What was the snake’s name?”

“I don’t know, Neville. Anyways, it wasn’t because he could talk to snakes that he was bad but he wasn’t the first bad wizard to be able to talk to snakes and so to this day there are a lot of people that think that being able to talk to snakes is something the only bad wizards can do. They think that everyone that can talk to snakes is evil.”

“I’m not evil, Lily,” Neville actually looked close to tears at the idea.

“I know that. I know that. But not everyone does. And that’s why I have to ask you to promise not to tell anyone about being able to talk to snakes and not to talk to them in front of anyone else, not just Muggles. Do you understand why?”

“Yes, Lily,” the answer was just above a whisper.

“Do you promise?” at his nod she turned to her own son, “You too, Harry.  Do you promise not to tell anyone about Neville being able to talk to snakes?”

“Yes, Mum. I promise, cross my heart, hope to crash, stick a wand up my--”

“Where on Earth did you hear that?”

“From Sirius. He promised Dad that he would--”

“I’m sure I really don’t want to know… just don’t go repeating that. It’s not very polite. I’ll have a few choice words of my own to say to Sirius the next time I see him.”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Well, then… I think that’s enough for tonight boys. Get yourselves into bed boys and I’ll tuck you in.”

And that’s what she did, hoping whilst she did so that she had got her point across.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways I’d like to thank my beta, Arnel for her hard work. I’d also like to thank Mistri Tonks' Admirer over at ff.n for pre-betaing this chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Mistri Tonks' Admirer whose pity for Lily inspired me to have this confrontation occur on stage.

When Sirius Black, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, next walked into the Potter household, a week after the snake incident, on October 4th, he didn't know what hit him.  What hit him was actually a Bat-Bogey hex shot his way by Lily so quickly that it was too late to duck or block by the time he caught on to the fact he was in trouble.  He barely had time to react, never mind protecting himself.

"Cross my heart, hope to crash, stick a wand up my ass? Sound familiar to you?"  The object of her rage reluctantly gave a small nod while attempting to cover up his discomfort.  "If I've told you once, I've told you a million times to watch your language in front of the boys.  Do you listen to me?  No, of course not.  I've half a mind to leave you like that.

"All week!  He's been saying it _all week_ and now he's got Neville saying it too.  YOU!"  She glared him straight in the eyes, her own green eyes shining dangerously, "YOU are going to talk to them, and repent the errors of your ways.  YOU are going to do so without involving me and YOU are going to make sure they never say it again… WITHOUT using memory charms.  If YOU should fail to do so I WILL put you in a full body bind and leave you like this somewhere where you WON'T be found for a long time.  DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR??"

He nodded in response but, "I can't HEAR you!!"

So he replied "Yes, Ma'am" and corrected himself, "Yes, Lily," in response to her renewed glare.

Then, and only then did she release the hex and send him on his way.

In Sirius' defence, he did _try_ to convince them by explaining calmly that it wasn't a nice thing to say and that he shouldn't have said it in the first place.  He tried explaining why it wasn't nice to talk about sticking objects up people's asses and almost got into the whole sexual connotations and sexual taboos before he realized that doing so would only get him in worse trouble.

So, then he tried lying and saying that he had regretted the words the moment they'd left his mouth.  But the boys wouldn't buy that excuse.  In desperation, he attempted bribery, but the boys refused to agree on a price that wouldn't get him into even more trouble.  The one time he came close to getting an agreement out of Harry, Neville had refused the terms.  The same thing occurred, in reverse, when Neville agreed to accept a new garden kit as payment…

So, really, by the time he uttered the faithful words he was not allowed to say, "Please, Please, stop saying it… You'll get me in trouble," he was already too desperate to fully realize what he was saying.

The boys just stared at him in shock.  The concept of a grown-up getting in trouble…well that just didn't make sense.  They were the ones making the rules after all, why would they…

But it didn't take them long to get over it. "Will you have to stick your wand up your ass?" Neville asked, to which Harry responded, "Would it hurt?"

Sirius let out a sigh of exasperation, "No, I wouldn't have to stick a wand up my rear.  Would you stop saying that?"

"But it would hurt if you did?" implored Harry.

"I presume that it would without the proper lu– never mind…"

"The proper what?" asked Harry just as Neville asked, "What does 'presoon' mean." 

Sirius ignored the first question in favour of the second, " 'Presume' means to guess."

But Harry refused to be brushed aside quite so easily, "Without the proper what?"

Desperate to avoid further trouble, Sirius replied, "Nothing you should be worrying about.  Forget I even said it.  You shouldn't be sticking anything there anyway."

To Sirius' relief, Harry seemed to buy that answer.  Unfortunately Neville decided to open a whole new can of worms, "So if you won't have to stick your wand up your ass how will you be getting in trouble?"

His response, "Something much worse," sparked the new question, "Who will you be in trouble with?"  He didn't answer for a long time.  While theoretically he hadn't involved Lily yet, not having mentioned her by name, something told him that wherever she was, eavesdropping on their conversation, she wasn't buying that as an excuse.  And so he took the plunge, "Lily.  She promised to curse me really bad if you keep repeating the rhyme you heard me say.  You don't want her to curse me, do you?"

Both boys shook their heads.  "Why would she curse you?" asked Harry.

Here came the tricky part.  If he made her sound like a villain he'd be in even more trouble, "Because she really doesn't like when you say things like that and she's mad at me for teaching you.  So do you promise?"

Both boys answered as one, "We promise," but Neville continued on to ask, "she wouldn't curse me when she's mad would she?"

Sirius was quick to squelch that thought, "No, of course not.  It's only because I'm a grown-up… She'd never curse either of you.  Now go on downstairs and don't tell your mum that I told you about her threatening me…"  Such instructions were pointless really since his initial guess had been right and Lily had been monitoring the conversation.  Not eavesdropping, monitoring.  There's a difference, as she was quick to point out when Sirius accused her of the former.

She didn't actually leave Sirius in a full body bind but she did take away his wand, cast a rather potent Bat-Bogey hex on him and leave him locked in a room for a long time.  She even misled James and Remus into thinking that he'd dropped by to say he was going out of town for a while.  To her credit, she did at least feed him and send him water daily, but the fact remains that he wasn't discovered until a week later when the full moon rolled around on the 10th of October and Moony showed up for his monthly transformation…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my beta, Arnel for all her help.


	15. Chapter 15

The night of All Hollow’s Eve, 1984 was nothing particularly spectacular, certainly not comparable to the same evening three years earlier. 

The Muggles went about their business as usual –well almost.  The tradition of trick-or-treating –or simply tricking in the case of certain hooligans –was, after all, popular in many parts of the Muggle world.  Even where it wasn’t, Muggles put out jack-o-lanterns to ward off evil spirits, something that as any decent witch or wizard could tell you, doesn’t actually work.

Wizards everywhere –in the western world anyway –enjoyed their traditional Halloween feast. The children of Hogwarts age, like thirteen-year-old Bill and eleven-year-old Charlie Weasley, enjoyed the extravagant feast at the school, an event that surpassed what most of them had ever experienced at home.  Those not at Hogwarts, spent the holiday feast with family and friends.

The feast at the Potter household, involved the entire Potter and Longbottom families, as well as Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.  Even Neville’s Aunt Enid and Uncle Algie were there.  So really, every witch or wizard who knew about Neville’s place of residence –except young Colin Creevey –was present.  They’d come together to celebrate the holiday, but the false cheeriness and celebration covered up the more sombre thoughts that were on the minds of all the adults present.  The mood was so tangible that even the boys were affected and made a lot less noise than usual, which, considering the commotion they usually caused, was actually still quite a bit of noise.  But the boys didn’t really understand what was going on that made all the grown-ups so quiet and sad.  They just knew that they were.

The small size of their gathering hardly meant that it was anything less than grand.  A lot of effort had been put into the meal and there promised to be leftovers for weeks, even if the guests brought a fair share home with them. 

The boys’ eyes naturally gravitated towards the sweets and while adults made small talk before the meal, they sat in a corner plotting how to sneak past Lily to get to them.  A carefully planned distraction accomplished just that.  But, unbeknownst to them, Lily had charmed them so that they could not be removed from their platter until dinner was cleared from the table. 

So instead of coming away with handfuls of sweets they found themselves with glowing orange hands, quite plainly advertising their attempt.  Sirius, when he saw them laughed, “I see you’ve been caught orange-handed.  Tried to sneak some treats, didn’t you?  I’m ashamed. Haven’t I taught you anything?”  The boys for their part looked duly guilty and began to apologise for their greed when Sirius continued, “What’s the number one rule of sneaking around?”  Now the boys were looking at him blankly, no longer sure of whether or not they were in trouble.  “ _Don’t_ get caught.” Sirius answered his own question.  He then pulled out his wand to cancel the charm, and warning them to stay away from charmed sweets until they were able to cancel it themselves.

During the meal, the boys had to stifle their giggles and Sirius almost choked on his pumpkin juice when Lily congratulated the boys for staying away from the treats. The rest of the feast passed nearly without incident. When it was over and even dessert had been cleared away Augusta suggested sending the boys up to bed, as they had done the past two Halloweens.  Lily intervened, “I think Neville should light the candles tonight.” 

Augusta started to object, “He’s only–”

“I know and it breaks my heart that such a young child should have someone to mourn.  But you know that he’s known all along that we’re not his parents.  He’s old enough now to wonder about them.  He should be there to hear us reminisce.”

So, instead of being sent up to bed, the boys joined the grown-ups in the living-room.  Lily stood by the mantle, where two white candles had been placed, and beckoned Neville over.  “Neville, these candles are for your parents.  They were killed on this day three years ago and so every Halloween since you’ve come here we’ve lit these candles, in their memory.  This year we want you to light them.  Do you think you can do that?”

“We’re not allowed to play with fire.  You said–”

“I know what I said, Nev, but I think for tonight we can make an exception.  Mind you, only tonight…”  That said, she handed him the first of the two white candles, then pulled a slender candle out of her pocket and lit it with her wand before holding it up in front of him so that he could light Alice's memorial candle with it.  “Repeat after me: In memory of Alice Longbottom, may her memory live on in those she left behind.”

His voice was shaky as he repeated the words, “In memory of Alice Longbottom, may her memory live on in those she left behind.”

She took the newly lit candle from him and returned it to the mantle, offering the second one in its stead, “In memory of Frank Longbottom, may his memory live on in those he left behind.”

“In memory of Frank Longbottom, may his memory live on in those he left behind.”

“That’s it.” She placed Frank’s candle beside Alice’s.  “Now blow that one out,” she gestured to the thin candle she still held.  Then taking his hand, she led him to the sofa by the fire and pulled him up to sit on her lap. 

For a long time the room was silent –not even Harry, sitting by his father, made a peep –as they paid their silent respects. 

Eventually, Lily broke the silence, “I remember the first time I met Alice.  She was the sixth year prefect during my first year and I was crying because someone had called me a Mudblood and said some nasty things.  She pulled me into a warm hug and comforted me till I stopped crying.  She was like that, always there for the younger students…”

The others nodded in agreement as Mrs. Longbottom, tears running down her face, murmured, "Frank...  he might not have had Alice's compassionate heart, but was a good boy, a brave boy.  I was so proud when he called to say he'd been accepted into the Auror corps.  It was right as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was beginning his rise and I begged Frank not to join, afraid I would lose him, and he told me, 'Mum, somebody has to stand up to him.  I could never live with myself if I turned my back on this chance to do something.' And so I let him because that was who he was and I loved him so much…"

And thus the night past by, each person bringing up their own stories of the couple.  The boys fell asleep sometime during the reminiscing, their bedtime long forgotten.  But nobody stirred, not until the candles had burnt themselves out.  Only then did the guests make their goodbyes and the Potters carry the boys up to bed, before laying themselves down for the night, knowing that the candles would be whole again and ready for next year by morning …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank my wonderful beta, Arnel, who was a great help with this chapter in particular.


	16. Chapter 16

All souls day passed in relative quiet in the Potter household, with only Harry and Neville running around rather than the noisy trio that included the Muggleborn wizard next door.  The Creeveys, with the exception of Melg, had actually been away for a bit over a month and so Lily hadn’t heard from them in quite some time.  It was for this reason and simply because Lily had forgotten that they had been due to return the night before that she was surprised to get a phone call from Carla that afternoon.

So naturally, Lily voiced her surprise to which she responded, “I know, I know.  But I’d have felt guilty using my sister-in-laws phone to call long distance.  Colin’s been asking after the boys.  How are they?

“Good, good, they’ve been surprisingly well-behaved all day.  I just hope they aren’t plotting something.  My husband and his friends are a terrible influence.  How was your trip?”

“Wonderful.  Colin had a great time with his cousins… Listen, I’ve been meaning to ask you… What do people do for Bonfire night around here?  I know I’ve been gone for a while… but I haven’t heard about any community event so… I thought I’d ask you.  You’ve been in the neighbourhood a lot longer, after all…”

“Bonfire Night?  Can’t say I’ve been to a celebration since I was ten…”

“Ten?  Why ever not?”

“Umm…Well, I went away to a boarding school where it wasn’t really a custom.  And… well, I guess I never really got back into the spirit since… James isn’t exactly one to celebrate Guy Fawkes Day either, so…”

“Well then, I must insist you join us wherever we end up celebrating.’

“Honestly, there’s no need…”

“Nonsense.  Imagine! Depriving your poor boys of Bonfire Night, a wonderful and fun celebration, and an important part of their heritage.  You should be ashamed of yourself, woman.”

“Ashamed of myself?  Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too seriously?  You make it sound like I deprived them of their Halloween feast, or cancelled Christmas…”

“Halloween feast?”

Lily cussed under her breath at the slip-up, “Just a family tradition that's recently taken on more meaning...  Neville’s parents were killed on Halloween.  We’ve held a family memorial after the feast every year since.”

“Oh.”  Carla was suddenly quiet.  When she spoke again her voice was gentler, “All the same, I must insist.”

"I suppose I could bring it up with James. Don’t think he’s ever even heard of Guy Fawkes… I’ll get back to you …”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

True to her word, Lily brought up the subject with James as soon as he came home from work that night.  Her earlier assumption that he wouldn’t know a thing about the holiday or the history behind it was proven to be well founded.

“Why would Muggles have a holiday to celebrate foxes?  Are they sacred animals in some religions?”

“Not Fox Day.  Guy Fawkes, he was a Catholic rebel that tried to blow up the Muggle British Parliament in 1605.”

“So you honour a terrorist?”

“Not quite.  We celebrate the failure of the assassination attempt.  Every year we burn effigies of Guy Fawkes in Bonfires.  It’s a big family event.”

“So let me get this straight, 400 years ago some guy tried to blow up all the Muggle Ministers–”

“And the King,” cut in Lily.

“And the King, and so now you pretend to burn him every year?”

“Yes.”

“I assume he was a Muggle – since I’ve never heard of him – and so actually died the first time you burnt him… Isn’t it a little overkill to keep doing it year after year?”

“I didn’t start the tradition.  Always thought it was morbid as a child… But, the really hilarious part is that, if you’d ever actually paid attention to Binns in History of Magic, you would remember that third year, interspersed with all his stories of Goblin revolutions, he mentioned Guy Fawkes in part of his lecture on witch burnings… The Muggles have been celebrating an unsuccessful execution for centuries.  How’s that for a bit of irony?”  She paused for a moment to let that titbit of information set in before continuing, “But that’s not why I want to go.  Carla is right about one thing.  It’s great fun and I’m sure the boys would have a blast.”

James looked reluctant but didn’t answer so she continued, “It’s not just the bonfire, you know.  There’ll be activities for the children, hot food, plenty of treats, fireworks…”

His eyes brightened at the word "fireworks".  So she emphasized, “ _Muggle_ fireworks.”

“What’s the difference? I doubt they’d notice if I threw a few Zonko’s products into the mix… You’re right, this _will_ be fun…”

“James!” she admonished.  “Of course the Muggles will notice.  No pranks!  Or I’m calling the whole thing off.”

 “The fact that they’re Muggles is what’ll make it fun.  They’ll be better impressed, after all.  Don’t worry about the Muggles, dear.  No one will be in need of Obliviation, and they won’t find themselves undergoing any transformations, I promise.”  She seemed to relax marginally at his statement but she was expecting his next utterance.  “Mind you, that’s _all_ I’ll promise,” he added under his breath, before going off to call Sirius, so that they could make plans for the evening.  Before long, Remus had been called in, as well. The trio spent the evening whispering plans in the back corner of the living room.

Lily, for her part, remained standing in the hall, silently chastising herself for bringing the subject up with James and expecting him to react maturely.  Eventually, she pulled herself away from her self-admonishments long enough to call Carla to give her the news, before trudging upstairs to tell the boys the news and, of course, send them off to bed.  Their bedtime story that night, comprised of the story of the Gunpowder Plot of 1605: “A long time ago, not so far away, in the city of London, our nations’ capital–”

“What’s a capital, Mum?”

And the rest, as they say, is history…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of James’ and Lily’s reactions are a reflection of my own thoughts on the holiday.   
> Thank you to my beta, Arnel.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Bonfire Night Song is not mine. It belongs in the public domain.

" _Remember, remember the fifth of November,  
Gunpowder treason and plot._  
 _We see no reason_  
Why gunpowder treason  
Should ever be forgot"

By the time bedtime rolled around on the 4th, Lily was sorely regretting having taught the boys the song. They had asked the meaning of every second word and stumbled over the lyrics the first few times they sang them but as soon as they had got them down pat…

" _Guy Fawkes, guy, t'was his intent  
To blow up king and parliament. _  
_Three score barrels were laid below_  
To prove old England's overthrow."

They'd not stopped for more than a few minutes at a time for two straight days. So on top of worrying about what most likely illegal plans her husband and his friends were plotting she had the children's singing to grate on her nerves. She couldn't wait for it all to be over. Hopefully once Guy Fawkes Day had come and gone they'd finally stop singing.

" _By god's mercy he was catch'd_  
With a darkened lantern and burning match.  
So, holler boys, holler boys, Let the bells ring.  
Holler boys, holler boys, God save the king."

It was small consolation that Harry and Neville's singing had spread to Colin and thus Carla was suffering almost as much as she was for her role in suggesting they attend the celebration.

" _And what shall we do with him?  
Burn him!_"

She only managed to get them to stop singing and go to sleep with the threat that they wouldn't get to go if they didn't behave. The threat wasn't enough to allow Lily more than a few hours of uninterrupted sleep though. The sun was hardly peaking over the horizon when she awoke to the sensation of being jumped on by two not so little bundles of energy.

"Get up!" Harry spoke first.

"Get up!"

Lily peaked her eyes open, noticed the sky was still mostly dark, and closed them again. "Go away. It's still too early…"

But Neville wasn't about to give up, "You promised that we could go to the park today!"

Apparently, Harry wasn't either as he jumped in, "And that there'd be cotton candy and popcorn, and…"

"Music, and dancing, and shows, and…"

"BONFIRE!"

Lily rolled over and craned her neck to see the clock over James' miraculously still sleeping body. _Too early to be up_ , it read. "See, even the clock agrees with me; go back to bed."

Of course, the boys couldn't read yet, and if they could they would have simply said that it was wrong. "Come on, Mum."

"Yes, come on, Lily." Neville added with another bounce, "You need to make us breakfast."

Grumbling she pushed herself up in bed, "Fine, I'm getting up…" She turned to grab her wand off her nightstand, "But if I have to get up, so does he." She pointed it at her husband cancelling the privacy spells that he must have cast the night before without her knowledge. She turned back to the boys, "Go on. Jump on him too."

James, however, wasn't as easily awakened as his wife. Even without the barrier he had erected the boys jumping on him and yelling, "Get up, get up!" in his ears wasn't enough to rouse him. Lily pointed her wand at him once more, "James Francis Potter, if you do not get up this INSTANT you will sorely regret it!"

He rolled over muttering, "Go away…"

The next instant he jumped up in bed, to the feeling of having a bucket of ice-cold water dumped on him. He turned to his wife, "What'd you do that for?"

"Why do you think?" The look on her face was enough to stop any further complaints he might have had. "And since you tried to sneak out of having to wake up early, you can make the boys' breakfast."

"Yes, Ma'm," he replied meekly. "Come on, boys."

Lily walked into the kitchen to find the boys gulping down their breakfast at breakneck speed, "Better slow down, boys, or you'll choke." The statement produced no change in their speed, so she added, "If you choke, we can't go to the park, you know?" Neville dropped his spoon. Harry's hand froze midway between his plate and his mouth. "Much better. Trust me, you won't miss anything if you take your time getting ready.

Even with her assurances though, they were ready (fed, dressed, and washed) in record time.

The kitchen clock still read, _Too early to be up_ when Harry asked, "Are we leaving yet, Mum?"

Lily took a deep breath, and sighed heavily before answering, "No, not yet."

Neville tugged on her jumper, "Why can't we leave now, Lily?"

"We have to wait for Colin and his parents," she explained.

"When will they be here?"

"I don't know, Harry," she sighed one more, "Why don't you ask your father?"

Neville took her up on the offer, "James, when is Colin coming?"

James shot his wife a dirty look over the boys' heads, but answered levelly, "As soon as he's ready, but you have to be patient. Okay, boys?"

"But, why isn't he ready, Dad? We've been ready for ages."

"Colin's still younger than you boys, and Dennis is even smaller. He takes longer to get ready."

"But why?"

"Because… because it takes practice to get ready really fast and Colin hasn't had as much practice as you have."

"But…"

"No buts, we'll just have to wait. You can wait like big boys, right?"

Harry answered, "Yes, Dad," just as Neville responded, "Yes, James. Both boys grinned broadly and promptly started singing:

" _Remember, remember the fifth of November,_  
Gunpowder treason and plot.  
We see no reason  
Why gunpowder treason  
Should ever be forgot!"

That's as far as they got before a frustrated Lily interrupted, "STOP THAT INCESSANT SINGING THIS INSTANT, OR, SO HELP ME MERLIN, WE WILL NOT BE GOING OUT TODAY!"

The boys just stared, dumbly. "Better do as she says," suggested James.

Nobody said a word more until the Creeveys arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank The Sorting Hat for his help with this chapter a well a my wonderful beta, Arnel.


	18. Chapter 18

The trip to the park was relatively uneventful. The walk was short and Harry and Neville remained silent throughout as Lily's threat continued to reverberate in their minds. Colin more than made up for it with his running monologue, but since at least he wasn't singing, the adults left him to it.

It wasn't till they arrived at the park that their day met its next stumbling block. As it turns out, the merchants were only just putting up their stalls as the two families arrived. The boys, Colin included, stared in silence for a few moments before a frown of disappointment began to creep onto their faces.

Harry broke the silence, "Where's the bonfire?" Before any of the adults could answer, he'd burst into tears, "We were quiet, just like you said, Mum. You didn't have to tell them to put it away…"

James bent down and gathered his son in his arms, then kissed his forehead. "That's right," he said as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe Harry's tears, "you _were_ a good little boy, both of you. But the bonfire isn't till tonight. It isn't anything that you did, they haven't put it up yet."

"But, but what about the music, and the dancing, and… Lily said music all day… She _did_ …" Neville insisted, not quite crying, but certainly on the verge of it.

"And the cotton candy and the popcorn too… Did she send _that_ away? Mum doesn't like us eating sweets…"

Lily cut her husband off before he could agree it was a crime that she insisted on denying them sweets, "No, of course not, boys, it just hasn't started yet, that's all. It _is_ very early still."

"When's it going to start then?" asked Harry.

She looked down at her watch – a Muggle one – then glanced up at the merchants that were setting up their shops and the workers that were unloading the amusement park rides, "Probably not before nine at the earliest."

"How many minutes is that, Lily?" this time it was Colin that asked.

"Around ninety, give or take a few," she replied.

"What does that mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"'Give or take a few.' What does that mean?"

"It means maybe a little bit more, or maybe a little bit less."

"Oh, which does it mean, 'more' or 'less'?"

"I don't know, Colin, it could be one or the other."

"Oh, well how much more? Is ninety more than ten? It must be because I can only count up to ten and ninety isn't between zero and ten and so it must be more, but how much more? Is it a lot?"

"Yes, it is quite a bit more than ten. Why don't you all go play in the playground while we wait?"

At that suggestion, Neville took off running and Colin took off after him. Harry… well Harry attempted to jump out of James' arms, with little success, and so by the time James had set him down and he ran after the other two boys, they'd already reached the see-saw and paired off. In an attempt to stave off the inevitable fight, or the equally likely tears, James offered to push him on the swings.

Unfortunately, given the earlier promise of a fair, the playground proved itself uncharacteristically incapable of holding their attention for very long. It wasn't yet eight thirty when Harry and Neville came running up to where Lily sat talking quietly with Colin's mother.

"We're bored, why hasn't the music started yet? It's been forever…"

"Yeah," agreed Neville, "Are ninety minutes over yet?"

Lily made a show of checking her watch, though she already knew the answer. She hadn't looked up yet when Carla answered, in her place, "Not yet, boys. Why don't you join Colin in the sandbox, he seems to be keeping himself busy."

Neither boy seemed happy with that answer but it was Harry that retorted, "How many more minutes? The sand is boring here. It doesn't stick and it's all one c–"

Lily gave him a pointed look that stopped him mid-complaint about the uniformity of the sand's colour, "Of course it doesn't stick, dear; it's not wet like the sand at home."

"The sand at home is–"

Another look cut him off once more, "Sure it is, dear, you just don't notice."

Harry pouted at being cut off for a second time, so Neville repeated the question in his stead, "How many more minutes?"

"At least another forty."

"But, it's boring, can't you make them go faster, Lily?"

"I'm afraid not, but I'll tell you what… We can go check out what all the workers are doing. Would you like that?" All she got were two identical grins, vaguely reminiscent of the look on her husband's face when he was up to no good. "You have to promise to behave though, or we're going straight home, understood?" When they both nodded she added, "And no bothering the workers either." She then turned to her companion, "Would you like to come? I'm sure Melg and James will be fine by themselves to watch Colin and Dennis."

"No, that's all right. I'd rather sit here for now. Heaven knows they'll be running us ragged before the day is through. No need to get a head start."

"If you're sure then…"

"I am. I'll see you later."

Most of the stalls had been set up when she returned to the fair with the boys in tow, and the merchants were starting to set up their wares. They passed booth after booth of people setting up games and hanging up stuffed toys as prizes. At one booth, there was period clothing on display and the merchant was hanging a sign advertising that for a price people could have themselves photographed in costume with Guy Fawkes. Other booths had treats for sale or souvenir t-shirts, hats, and mugs.

By the time they reached the last booth, more souvenirs, the boys had begun to become restless again, "How much longer?" asked Neville.

"Are forty minutes over yet?"

She looked down at her watch. "Not yet, boys," she replied reigning in her frustration.

It was then that she noticed the person manning the booth they had stopped in front of. "Remus?"

"The one and only, Sirius will be right back."

The boys noticed him then too. As they ran up and gave him a hug apiece, Lily took a closer look at the booth's wares. They were souvenirs, true, but rather than stamped simply with the picture of Guy, his name, or some derivative of the Bonfire song, these featured in glittery letters – magical to the eye of anyone looking for signs of magic:

" _Guy Fawkes_  
 _We've burnt him **379** times so far._  
 _Isn't he dead yet?_ "

"What do you think?" asked a voice behind her.

Lily turned to face Sirius Black, "A little tame for the lot of you, what else do you have up your sleeves?"

"Now that would be telling, that would be telling..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my beta, Arnel, for all her help.


	19. Chapter 19

She sent him a glare that would have made a lesser – or perhaps just less experienced – man whither.

“Relax woman, nothing that will get us arrested, I promise.”

“And that’s supposed to reassure me?”

Sensing that the barely civil discussion was about to escalate into a full-blown argument, Remus untangled himself from the two boys, who still held fast to his legs, and placed himself between Lily and Sirius. “Perhaps if I added my own reassurances? No Muggle-baiting, nothing overtly illegal, just all around entertainment, I swear.”

Her attention no longer on Sirius, she rounded on the closest available target, “And that is _so_ much better? I notice you didn’t deny illegality. ”

Remus let out a long sigh, then put on a sheepish grin, “Can’t blame a guy for trying. Seriously though, you need to relax, have fun… This is supposed to be a day of family entertainment, after all.”

“Fine, but if the lot of you get yourselves arrested, I’m not bailing you out. Even if it means that _you_ ,” she gave the werewolf a pointed look, “are stuck alone in a secure Ministry holding cell three nights from now.”

“It won’t become an issue,” assured Remus evenly. Had she been less focused on her anger, Lily might have noticed that he was no longer looking directly at her; his head was bowed to hide the hurt look on his face.

While Remus might have been inclined to let the issue rest, Sirius protested on his behalf, “Now, Lily, that’s a little extreme, even for you, Mrs. Goody-Two-Shoes. Moony had no larger part in planning our little surprise than James and I. You have _no_ right to take it out on him, especially not by playing off _that._ ”

The glare that Sirius sent her made his feelings on the issue clear but it was the look on Remus’ face that caused Lily’s anger to deflate. She turned to him, “I’m sorry, Remus. I don’t know what came over me. That was completely out of line and an empty threat. I would never leave you to transform in such a deplorable place, no matter how angry I might be. My conscience would never let me.”

Remus looked up and extended his hand, “Apology accepted.”

The instant those words were uttered, Sirius’ demeanour changed completely and his goofy smile returned. “You, my dear Lily, are far too tense and stressed out. What you need is a good laugh. Here, take a t-shirt; they have a mild cheering charm on them.” She tried to protest that last statement but Sirius silenced her by pulling one down over her head, “Now, none of that. It’s a mild one; the Muggles won’t even notice and it’ll wear out in a couple of days, anyways.”

He then turned to the two boys who had hung back with twin looks of confusion on their faces during the whole argument, “Here, one for each of you, too,” and waved off Lily’s protests, “On the house. They were made in your house, after all, and it’s good advertising,” the last bit was added in a conspiratorial whisper.

The cheering charm must have been working because the next time she opened her mouth it wasn’t to complain, “How much are you charging for these anyway? Do either of you even know how to use Muggle money?”

Sirius clapped her on the back, “That, my dear, is what we have you for.”

“But the boys…”

“I shall take my godson and his frie – bro – Neville off your hands and entertain them for the day while you and Remus spread cheer with our wares. “

“But…” she never did complete her objection because he and the boys were already gone. How he managed to move so fast short of Apparating – which he hadn’t done – is a Marauder trade secret.

Remus tried to reassure her, “Don’t worry, Lily. I’m sure they’ll be fine and I’ve got some mediocre Muggle money skills so you needn’t be trapped back here all day.”

Lily did end up spending most of the day selling the souvenirs.  Much as she hated to admit that Sirius might be right about anything, she really did need the break from the boys. The last couple of days had left her nerves completely frayed. She was still there when Carla came by, with Colin in tow and Dennis in his pram, and had to endure Colin’s attempts to comprehend the magnitude of the number 379.

All in all, though, the day was pleasantly spent. Of course, she would have probably better enjoyed it better if she hadn’t spent most of it waiting for the other shoe to drop. The surprise that Remus had been hinting about all day didn’t come till fairly late, but when it came during the re-enactment of the burning of Guy Fawkes, she wasn't disappointed.

Just as the effigy was being lifted towards the platform where it would be burned, it began to struggle as though it were alive. Its pleas, "Not again! Please not again! I promise, I'll never try to blow up parliament again; just don't put me in another fire. Please!" as it was tied to the stake brought the crowd to laughter – well, most of it. Those that had been part of the event organizing committee and knew for a fact that they hadn't invested in a high-tech talking and moving effigy wore looks of confusion instead.

The effigy's pleas continued long after the fire had been lit, turning into screams as the fire continued to burn, and eventually dying out.

The next morning when city workers set upon the task of cleaning up the ashes that remained of the bonfire, they found the effigy buried therein, completely unharmed.

They didn't tell anyone. Who would have believed them?

Likewise, those involved in the event's organizing, who had been baffled by much of the evening's events, never mentioned it to anyone, even amongst themselves. Rather, they expressed a sense of satisfaction that the day had been such a success to all who asked. The acquiescence draught that had been slipped into their drinks, over the course of the evening, may have had something to do with it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my wonderful beta Arnel.


	20. Chapter 20

By some miracle, nobody in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office ever found out about the Marauders' Bonfire Night stunt. Or if they did –James was sure he'd seen Arthur Weasley wink at him in the hall at work –nobody ever called them on it. So, as the days grew shorter and colder, life continued as per usual in the Potter household. That is to say, in its typically chaotic manner.

Perhaps the only atypical thing that happened that November was that Lily got to sleep in... every day. In fact, the next time she was woken by the boys jumping on her wasn't till early December. James had already left for work, but she had remained in bed, enjoying the warmth as one can only truly do on a cold day such as that. Slowly, but surely, she'd drifted back to sleep.

She was dreaming of sunbathing on a tropical island, with the children nowhere in sight. So, when the boys jumped on her and started chanting, "It's snowing! It's snowing! Mummy/Lily is snoring. She went to bed and bumped her head, and won't get up though it's morning," her main complaint was with their unorthodox manner of waking her.  Their choice of lyrics and the fact that they were interrupting her rather pleasant dream certainly didn’t help matters.

Despite her strong will to remain in her sunny paradise, the boys were rather insistent and managed to draw her back to cold and dreary England where, just outside her window, soft snowflakes had begun to fall. There wasn't much yet, and most of it wasn't staying on the ground, certainly not enough to cover the mud left behind by the last rainfall.

Nevertheless, it was enough to get the boys all excited. It was all she could do to insist that they eat, wash, and dress warmly, before allowing them to venture outside, knowing as she did that they'd be back by day's end, coated in mud rather than simply snow-drenched.

She didn't miss her guess. The "snowballs" that they insisted on throwing at each other –and then later at Colin when he was permitted to join them –were more mud than anything else and there was certainly no snow involved in what they termed "snow angels" either. Rather, as far as Lily was concerned, their making was just another excuse for rolling around in the mud, a hobby of the boys that she had yet to comprehend.

So really, although she hated what it symbolized, Lily was quite relieved when the next snowfall was a more substantial one. It fell on a Saturday, which meant James was home, so at least she didn’t have to deal with the boys alone.

The morning started off well enough –being jumped on as a wake-up call notwithstanding –but for Lily, the day started to go downhill almost the minute they stepped outside into the snow. No sooner than she had closed the door behind her did she find herself victim to a snowball in the face.

It was the first of many. Most of them came her way from James, who had better aim and magic on his side but Harry and Neville contributed their fair share –though with them there was always the question as to how much of their success was the result of good aim, as opposed to accidental magic. It seemed that the three of them were determined to focus their attention on her rather than on each other. She gave as good as she got and protected herself as well as she could but so many snowballs had made their mark on her face that Lily as quite relieved when the boys decided to call a halt to the snowball fight.

They turned their attention instead to the relatively tame task of building a large snowman. As she watched them roll a snowball around the yard –James doing most of the work, and by magic at that, though the boys did try to help –to form the base of the snowman, she finally allowed herself to relax. So uncharacteristically quite was it that she may have even started to doze off, despite the cold.

At any rate, she as sufficiently distracted to be startled when James called out her name “Hey Lily!” She glanced up at her husband, almost certain that the exclamation precluded another snowball in the face. She was surprised when it was followed by a question instead, “What was that Muggle song again, the one about the snowman?”

“You mean, ‘Frosty the Snowman’?”

“That’s the one… How did it go again? He had a corncob pipe, a button nose, eyes of coal, anything else?”

“The old silk hat… why does it matter?” Had she been paying a little more attention to what her husband was up to, she wouldn’t have needed to ask the question. She would have noticed that as he listed each item off, he transfigured a snowball into said item. As it was, she was rather taken by surprise when the snowman that James had been working on suddenly sprang to life and started singing, “Frosty the Snowman…”

Before he had finished the first verse, the boys had joined in, their off key singing adding to the hilarity of the scene. Lily was left standing there, her mouth gaping in shock as the snowman played out the entire song –thankfully without leaving the yard. She didn’t want to imagine the scene if “Frosty” had encountered an actual traffic cop.

Finally the song ended, the dancing stopped abruptly, and the animated snowman underwent a sudden change in direction –straight towards the still gaping Lily and it showed no sign of slowing. Deciding that the three gigantic animated balls of snow currently hurtling towards her were the worst of the snowballs James had yet to throw at her that day, she made the decision to turn tail and run.

When the snowman showed no sign of ceasing its chase after five laps of the yard, Lily finally lost her patience –Harry and Neville’s giggling hadn’t helped any –and exclaimed, “JAMES FRANCIS POTTER, if you don’t cease that this instant, you are sleeping on the couch tonight!”

Suffice it to say that that was the end of that. He didn’t have to sleep on the couch. Though she did leave the task of getting the boys dried and warmed up to James to do alone, as punishment. Overall, at the end of the day, Lily decided that having her husband around for the first substantial snowfall of the season was more a nuisance than help. At least when the boys did magic it was mostly accidental…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank my beta Arnel.


	21. Chapter 21

As the holiday season approached, the Potter household took on a festive air. Lily hung holly and pine up as decoration, while James insisted on a special addition of his own. Above the doorway to the master bedroom, he hung a piece of mistletoe, charmed to summon his wife to him, or him to her -while avoiding collision with any obstacles -each time one of them passed under it, provided he or she was in the house, of course. He proclaimed it as the only way he could ensure he got as many kisses from his lovely wife, as the holiday season mandated. The fact that he made this argument after summoning her, covered in soap, from the shower, didn't help his case any, though what came next might have. She stopped objecting, at any rate.

One day, midway through December, with James at work and the boys safely delivered next-door for the afternoon, Lily got out her address book and settled down to the yearly task of sending out holiday greetings to family and friends, though mostly to the latter.

She made two piles. The cards in the first pile, to be delivered by owl post, contained cards with moving pictures, addressed mostly to Hogwarts friends, as well as to friends she had made since leaving school. The second pile was smaller, addressed almost entirely to those Muggle friends from her pre-Hogwarts days that she still remained in touch with.

As she reached the last of the Muggle cards, she faltered momentarily before finally signing it and slipping it into the last of the little red envelopes that she'd taken out. Sealing the envelope, she addressed it and affixed a postage stamp, before adding it reluctantly to the smaller pile, to be delivered by Muggle post.

Lily wasn't really surprised when, three days later, the Muggle postman handed her a little red envelope addressed to one Petunia Dursley, of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, the words "Return to Sender" written clearly in black marker across the front. She'd been expecting it, really. Every piece of correspondence that she'd sent her sister in the past six years had been returned similarly. Somehow, it wasn't enough for her to ignore the missives; she insisted on throwing them back in Lily's face, so that there was no doubt of the rejection.

Expected though it was, the rejection still hurt. She'd yet to plaster a smile back on her face when she ran into the boys in the hallway. Rather, they ran into her, literally. They had the good sense to look contrite about it, as they stared down at their toes, awaiting the expected lecture about the dangers of running in the halls.

When it didn't come, Neville chanced a look up, and noticed that the expression on Lily's face was not that of exasperation that typically presented itself when she caught them doing something they knew they weren't supposed to do. "Why are you sad, Lily?"

Now, Harry looked up too, "Are you hurt, Mum?"

She tried unsuccessfully to smile. "No, I'm not hurt. Though you know you shouldn't be running in the halls."

She would have preferred to leave it at that but Neville was persistent. "So, why are you sad?"

"It's nothing for you to worry yourself about. Now go on back to your games before I change my mind about not punishing you for running in the house."

They made no move to leave. "But, Mum, you said that if we're sad or angry about something we should talk about it 'cause if we keep it inside we'll explode. I don't want you to explode."

"I'm quite sure I never told you that you'd explode, for any reason."

"James did," offered Neville. "And you said that when we're sad we should talk about it, 'cause it'll make us feel better. You did."

"You're right, I did, didn't I? You're not going to leave till I tell you, are you?" When both boys proceeded to shake their head rather energetically, she suggested, "Why don't we go sit down and I'll tell you all about it?"

Once they'd settled down, she continued, "I suppose the reason I'm sad I because someone I care about very much doesn't care about me the same way. My sister sent back a card I sent her, without opening it."

"Well, she's a big meanie!" exclaimed, Neville, "I'll always answer Harry's letters, and he isn't even my real brother."

He had the right idea, so, Lily felt it wise to ignore the glare that Harry sent Neville's way in response to the latter part of his comment. "I know, Neville, and that's part of what makes you so special. But, you mustn't be too harsh on Petunia. She has her reasons for acting as she does; she misses our mum and dad—Harry's grandparents—very much and she blames me for their being gone, because I'm a witch."

"But it's not your fault, is it?" asked Neville

"You didn't make them go away, did you?" added Harry.

"No, of course not. We were never very close as children, not like you and Harry. She's hurting and needs someone to blame; she picked me."

For a long while, the boys appeared to be contemplating that statement and the idea that grown-ups could make mistakes too. Finally, Neville asked, "Are they gone to the same place as my mum and dad?"

"Yes, Neville, they are."

"Then there's no reason to be sad, 'cause Gran says everyone's happy there, and one day we'll all be together again, right?"

She graced him with a small smile, "That's right, Neville. That's right. Don't ever forget that… Now, that's enough of this sad talk. I'll be fine, boys. Why don't you go back to your game?" When they once again made no move to leave she suggested, "Or, if you like, we could bake some gingerbread cookies. I might even let you eat a few before James gets home and they disappear…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends 1984. … Next chapter, the dawning of the New Year.
> 
> I'd like to thank my beta, Arnel for all her help.


	22. Chapter 22

Christmas passed by uneventfully, and soon the New Year was upon them.  The Potters had planned for a meal with family and friends – nothing quite as big as their Christmas feast –which would include quiet conversation as they waited for the clock to strike midnight so that they could "toast" the New Year in good company. 

What they hadn't counted on – but should have – was that the boys, knowing the reason the grown-ups were all staying up till midnight, would refuse to go to bed.  Even the promise to wake them right before midnight, so that they could take part in the most important part of the evening, was not enough to convince them to change their mind.  Finally, despite Augusta's protests, Lily reluctantly agreed to allow them to sit up with the grownups; if they fell asleep the adults would wake them at midnight, provided they bathe and change into their pyjamas first.

As expected, though they tried their hardest to keep their eyes open, Harry and Neville both drifted off to sleep long before midnight.  Lily levitated them both to bed, not trusting James to manage it without waking them, though she needn't have worried.  Even Sirius' drunken singing wasn't enough to wake them.  She didn't trust him to wake them at 11:50 either, and instead left him to prepare the bubbly in her absence, reminding him, "Non-alcoholic for me too, dear," as she headed up the stairs.  As an afterthought she added, "and for Sirius."

Soon she returned with two yawning four-year-olds in tow.  And thus they toasted to the New Year – with non-alcoholic bubbly in plastic glasses for the boys – "May the year ahead be full of health and happiness for our growing circle of family and friends, and _free_ of Dark lords."  The last bit was added by Sirius, not that anyone objected.

For the most part, the year progressed as they had toasted.  Aside from the occasional cold, they were all healthy, and apart from the rare tear or moment of melancholy they were all happy.  The children were certainly growing, and if there were any lurking Dark lords, they didn't make themselves known. 

Soon the winter's snows had melted, April's showers had fallen, and May's flowers were beginning to show themselves. And then May 12th rolled around – a double celebration.  In addition to it being Lily's birthday, it was also Mother's Day that year and somehow Harry and Neville had got it into their heads that they were going to treat Lily to breakfast in bed… They neglected to tell James.

They sneaked out of bed shortly after dawn and made their way to the kitchen where signs of the Marauders' Saturday Night poker game were still evident; dirty glasses and dishes – the breakable kind which would normally be stored in charmed cupboards, away from the youngsters' prying hands – still lay about and the Silencing Charms, erected to keep from waking the boys, were still up.

Neville made his way over to the oven, dragging a chair behind him, while Harry made his way over to the fridge, also dragging a chair, which he used to reach the eggs on the top shelf.  He managed to break half of them as he lost his balance getting down from the chair.   While he attempted to clean up the mess with tissue (which only served to smear egg all over the floor), Neville reached the conclusion that he couldn't turn the stove on.  This was due to the fact that it was charmed that way, but since they didn't know that, Harry insisted on giving it an equally unsuccessful try himself.

And so, unable to start the stove, they gave up on the idea of eggs and bacon and instead turned their attention to preparing cereal and toast.  Unfortunately, the cupboards containing clean dishes were all magically sealed shut so while Neville attempted to retrieve the cereal from the cupboard above the sink – by climbing onto the counter – Harry grabbed the empty bowl of chips off the table, emptied the crumbs into the trash and brought it over to the sink to rinse.  He used the same chair Neville had used to get onto the counter so as to reach the sink, but still managed to splash water all over the counter. 

It was inevitable that Neville then slipped on his way down and spilled most of the cereal.  What was left they poured into the bowl.  Harry then returned to the fridge for some milk.  This time, he made it down from the chair without spilling anything.  They even managed to get _most_ of what they poured into the bowl. 

The problem came when they tried to pour the milk into a glass that Harry had rinsed from its previous night's use.  The first attempt resulted in the glass tipping over and shattering onto the floor.  They stayed away from the broken glass.  The second attempt, with a new glass, was more successful, but still resulted in more milk on the table than in the glass. 

Making the "toast" was easily the simplest part of the meal.  Since the toaster wouldn't work for the same reason they couldn't get the stove to turn on they made do with simply plopping a few slices of bread on a plate that had previously contained a few cookie crumbs and smearing butter on them – they had to use their hands since the knives were locked away.  They had wanted to put jam on the "toast" as well but their hands were so slippery from the butter that the jar slipped right to the floor and shattered, when they tried to remove it from the fridge. 

Giving up on creating anything more complicated, they proceeded to deliver their gift.  Neville held the large bowl of cereal, while Harry balanced the glass of milk and plate of toast.  One piece of "toast" never made it to the stairs.  Most of the milk and cereal was lost between the kitchen and the Master bedroom.  Needless to say that while pleased with the gesture, Lily was not at all happy with the results.  Thankfully, James had enough sense to volunteer to clean up the mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Mistri Tonks' Admirer for his help brainstorming this chapter and for pre-betaing. Thanks, as well, to my beta, Arnel.


	23. Chapter 23

Life went on in the Potter household and soon the Mother’s Day fiasco was well behind them.  Instead, disaster of another type was brewing.  More specifically, Lily was planning to inform Augusta of her and James’ decision to register Harry at the local primary school and to request permission to do the same for Neville.  She wasn’t expecting things to go well.

They didn’t.  To say Augusta was reluctant to grant such permission would be an understatement of epic proportions.  Fortunately, Lily had had the foresight to send the boys next door and cast a Silencing Charm to prevent sound from escaping the house.  Thus, they were spared having to hear the argument.

It had started off civilly enough, with Lily saying, “James and have I have decided to send Harry to a Muggle primary school.  We were wondering if you’d consider sending Neville as well.”

“Absolutely not!  Why can’t you just have them home-schooled?  My son was, as was I before him, and my parents before me.  We all turned out fine.  I’m willing to pay for a tutor for both boys, if that’s the issue.”

“It isn’t, but the boys need a chance to socialize with other children their own age.  So far, they have only themselves and Colin.  What’s going to happen when they go to Hogwarts?”

“But, Muggles?”

“It would be ideal, no?  The Muggles don’t know who he is.  I’d also like Harry to know something of his Muggle roots.  Besides, being able to blend in with Muggles is a good skill to have.”

“I disagree. Neville is safer in the house.  That’s what’s important.”

“How can you ignore the importance of…”

The argument continued in that vein for quite some time.  The gist of it being that Lily was adamant that her son would attend primary school for the social and life skills it would provide and refused to accept Augusta’s offer to finance home-schooling for the boys.  She was also rather insistent that Neville go to school with Harry.  Augusta, on the other hand, stoically refused to consider allowing her grandson to be educated outside the home.  In fact, by the time James got home from work, the argument had become so heated that he was only able to get a word in edgewise by silencing them both with a wave of his wand.  

Making sure they were both unarmed and not going anywhere, he addressed Augusta, “Neville is like a son to both Lily and me and we, like you, want what’s best for him.  However, you’re right, in that his schooling is your choice, to do as you choose.  But, Lily’s right too.  Harry is our son, and our decision to have him attend Muggle primary school is non-negotiable.  You’re welcome to make your own arrangements for your grandson, provided you’re willing to deal with the inevitable problems that will crop up when Harry starts to make friendships that he can have no part in.” 

Turning to Lily, he added, “I assume you left the boys next door.  I’m going to go get them.  I expect you both to be calm and act civilized by the time I get back.”

They were calmer, when he returned, but still not sufficiently so that the boys couldn’t tell that the two women had been arguing.  The fact that Augusta left almost immediately, rather than staying for dinner, only served to drive the point home.  As Augusta hugged the boys goodbye, before stepping into the fireplace, James turned to his wife and asked, “You okay, dear?  You know you shouldn’t be getting yourself worked up like this.”  She just glared at him.  He let the subject drop. 

On the other hand, the boys refused to let the subject drop that had caught their interest (what Lily and Augusta had fought about), despite Lily’s flat out refusal to tell them.  She was holding out in hope that Augusta would change her mind and she wouldn’t have to tell them that Harry would be starting school in September, but Neville couldn’t go with him.  She could already picture the look on the older boy’s face as she tried to explain; she could visualize the strength and confidence that had been slowly growing in him --since the night he’d witnessed his parents’ death --shattering in an instant… Her reluctance was understandable. 

Fortunately, she was spared that particular agony.  Augusta returned two days later and reported willingness to send Neville to school with Harry, if it wasn’t too late.  She had her conditions, of course: the Fidelius Charm would stay up, the boys were not, under any circumstances, to bring any classmates home, and the school authorities were to be informed that Neville was at risk of abduction and be given a list of authorized persons who were allowed to pick him up from school.  She left the explanation for the last condition up to Lily since she knew more about Muggles and could probably come up with something more believable. 

It took a while for the details to be worked out; documents supporting the existence of a nasty custody battle involving an abduction risk had to be fabricated.  Finally, a week after the original argument, Lily sat the boys down to inform them that they’d be starting school in a few months and to lay down the rules.  There was to be no talking about magic, no doing magic, no talking about being able to talk to snakes, no talking to snakes, no inviting friends over, no going over to the homes of classmates, no talking to strange adults, no talking about Neville’s scar, or Voldemort or the Fidelius, or their living arrangements, or… 

The first morning of school, Lily dropped the boys off at school, reminding them as she did of the most important rule, “Now remember boys, it’s a Muggle school -”

Or tried to, seeing as Harry cut her off, “Yeah, yeah, no magic, Mum, we got it.”

“It’s not like we can control it anyways,” added Neville.

“Can we go now, Mum?”

“Not just yet, boys.  I have something to discuss with your teacher, so I’m coming with you today.”

Harry frowned. “We’re not babies.  We can go by ourselves.”

“And you will, tomorrow.  Today, I’m coming with you. Come along.”

So, Lily escorted them to class and reinforced Augusta’s rules with the teacher.  She kissed both boys one last time and told them to be good.  And then she was gone.

Much to her chagrin, however, before the week was up, they’d broken just about every rule on the list…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank my pre-beta Mistri Tonks' Admirer, and my beta Arnel.


	24. Chapter 24

It all started during morning recess the first day of school, when the children were out playing in the schoolyard.  Neville and Harry were in the middle of a game of dodge ball with some of the other boys in their class when suddenly the yard went totally still.  The ball they had been playing with hung in mid-air.

Harry turned to his brother and said, “Neville!”

In response the other boy threw his arms up in exasperation, “Wasn’t me! Bet you just stopped everything cause my team was winning!”

“Were not! Did not!”

“'Course you did, 'cause it wasn’t me, and we’re the only wizards in the whole school.  Lily said so.  I’m going to tell her you did magic at school.”

“Don’t you dare! You know we’re not supposed to upset her because of–”

“Well, you started it!”

While the boys engaged in their argument, the source of the problem, a tiny bushy-haired girl with big front teeth, finally got over the shock of seeing the playground and, more specifically, the bullies who had been picking on her, freeze in place and began to scream.

The sound stopped the boys mid-argument, and they turned and ran towards it – not without a final glare at one another.  Harry reached her first, and led her out of the circle of bullies, “Shhhh… just calm down.”

“Stop yelling or someone might come…then how are we going to explain the entire playground being frozen?” added Neville

Slowly her yells quieted to whimpers.  Harry offered her his hand, “Here, that’s it, calm down…”

“It happens to the best of us.  We all lose control sometimes, why Harry was just accu…”

Harry shot him a glare that shut him up, “You’re not helping,” turning back to the girl he said, “Now we need you to reverse the spell.  Do you think you can do that?”

“Bb...bu…bu…but…”

“You’re the one that cast it.  You have to reverse it,” Neville offered, “Just try to think of everything starting up again.”

“You can do it.”

And she did.  Unfortunately, the children forgot to take into account what had been going on before she froze things in the first place.  Across the playground, the classmates that the boys had been playing with looked around in confusion.  A few feet away, the bullies that had been mocking the girl registered first confusion, then anger that their quarry was no longer in the circle they had formed around her.  The leader of the group, a burly ten-year-old, turned on the trio, “You, freak, come back here and get what’s coming to you!”

Harry and Neville, in an instinctive decision to protect their new friend, stepped in front of her, shielding her with their bodies.  However, Nick Forte, the bully who’d been picking on those smaller than him all his life, wasn’t about to let two five-year-olds keep him from his chosen prey and began to advance towards them.  Luckily for the two wizards and the witch they were protecting, the boys’ playmates, having figured out where they’d disappeared to were on their way to join them.  Nick might not have qualms about beating up three five-year-olds, but two dozen at once was a bit out of his league.  He didn’t stick around to find out what they wanted.  It was probably best that he didn’t since they had no interest in engaging the bully in a fight; they were only on their way to ask Harry and Neville to come back and finish the game. 

Even at the tender age of five they knew that a scared and confused Muggleborn witch was a more pressing matter that a game of dodge ball.  They stayed with her.

As soon as the rest of the boys had left, the little girl, still clinging to Harry’s hand, turned to Neville and said in a manner that you wouldn’t expect from a girl her age, “You said that it was normal for me to lose control, that you had done so yourself, would you kindly explain what you meant by that?” 

The boys were a little taken aback by her phrasing. “Well you see… it’s your magic, you just lost control of your magic…” Neville offered.

While that had been enough of an answer for Neville, the same could not be said for their new acquaintance.  She scoffed – yes, scoffed – and countered, “Magic? Magic exists only in the world of make-believe.” Evidently, she didn’t believe in magic, despite the evidence before her. After all, there were no monsters under her bed, no boogieman, and no tooth fairies; her parents had told her so.  Fairy tales didn’t come true, and she couldn’t be a princess when she grew up.  They had told her that as well.  Disbelief in all things magic had followed naturally.

Harry attempted to pick up where his brother had left off, “I know Muggles don’t know about magic, because they aren’t magic but magic is real…you did magic…”

“Muggles?”

“People that aren’t witches or wizards, like your parents…  You’re a witch, Neville and I are wizards,” he continued.

“And you could freeze the playground too?”

“Well, I’ve never frozen a playground before…” replied Neville.

“Me, neither,” added Harry but seeing her frown he quickly added, “But I did freeze Dad once… and Neville freezes people all the time…he likes to cheat at tag…”

“Do not!”

“Yes, you do!”

“I don’t do it on purpose, it just happens.”

“Sure it does…”

“Does too! Lily says it’s wild magic, that it’ll go away when we grow up.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t cheat!”

“BOYS!” the witch demanded their attention, dropping her formal stance for the first time since she’d stopped screaming.  Upon getting it, however, she once again became prim. “I’m Hermione Granger, pleased to make your acquaintance.” She offered them her hand.

“Neville Longbottom,” the elder replied awkwardly, attempting to give her five, “and this prat is my brother…”

“Harry Potter,” the boy in question cut him off, “and don’t listen to a thing he says about me.”

“If you’re brothers, why do you have different names?”

“Cause he’s adopted…”

She looked at Neville for confirmation, not sure if she should believe Harry’s story.  Her cousin Amy was always saying that her little sister Jane was adopted, but her aunt and uncle had told her it wasn’t true, just something siblings said about each other.  So when Neville responded, “Well, sort of, anyways…”

“He lives with us, but his Gran won’t Mum and Dad adopt him…”

“She doesn’t want to let me go… I’m all she has left,” supplied Neville.

“She is really strict.  But she’s nice.  She lets me call her Gran, since I don’t have a Gran of my own.”

“What happened to your real parents?” Hermione asked, without really meaning to be rude.

“They were killed by an evil wizard…” Neville answered, but left it at that.

“That’s where he got his scar,” offered Harry.

“Harry!” While the pair argued once again, Hermione searched his body for a scar.  She finally found the lightning bolt scar hidden beneath his fringe, but by then they were deep into an argument and she didn’t interrupt.

“Well, it’s true…”

“But we’re not supposed to talk about that.”

“We also aren’t supposed to talk about magic, and you just told her all about it.”

“Did not! You told her about us being wizards.”

“You started it!”

“Did not!”

“Yes, you did!”

The ringing of the school bell, calling them back to class, interrupted the argument. And so it was that a new friendship began. 

Unfortunately, while the two wizards may have been quick to befriend the lonely witch, no one else seemed to want to. 

The bullies left her alone, though certainly not out of fear of reprisal, seeing as when not accompanied by Harry or Neville, she was usually by herself.  No, the more likely explanation was that Nick had spread the word of her mysterious evasion and they were all spooked.  Within a couple of weeks the story had twisted so completely that… Well, let’s just say the story of her single-handedly knocking out two dozen bullies in the blink of an eye or the one of her conjuring an army of ninja body guards was enough to frighten off any potential bullies and give her, Neville, and Harry a good laugh.  Actually, Neville and Harry did most of the laughing.  She simply inquired as to the feasibility of each story given what they knew about magic.  Her use of the word “feasible” simply set off the laughter all over again.

Still, even without the bully problem, she still had to cope with the teasing of her classmates and her lack of any friends other than the two wizards.  Whenever the boys were invited to join in a game with their classmates, she was always left out.  Sometimes they’d decline in favour of hanging out with her, and talking about magic.  Everyone likes being the centre of attention once in a while and she seemed fascinated by everything they had to say: tales of Invisibility Cloaks, enchanted alarm clocks, mirrors that actually talked to you, moving photographs, talking portraits – basically things that she had given up on as being nothing but make-believe. 

The only problem with these discussions is that they more often than not ended in her asking more questions about how magic worked than either of the two young wizards could possibly know.  So sometimes they chose to join the games and she’d be left watching in the sidelines. 

Now Hermione was a smart girl – even at five – and she knew enough to know that she was being ostracized – and, yes, she did know what the word meant.  In fact, one day, a week into the school year, she turned to her two friends and asked, “Why don’t any of the other kids like me? I feel that I’m being ostracized.”

Now Harry’s first response was to ask her what ‘ostracized’ meant but Neville, who incidentally didn’t know the meaning of the word either, cut him off with the reply, “'Cause you’re a know-it-all teacher’s pet!”

It was probably not the best thing to say, judging by the reaction it garnered: Hermione burst into tears and Harry rounded on him quite violently and yelled, “Neville!”

But, having grown accustomed to his brother’s temper, Neville was hardly about to be frightened by it.  Despite being Hermione’s friend, he wasn’t immune to the view that she was a little too much of a know-it-all. “Well it’s true, every time the teacher asks a question herhand is up in the air waving like the flag.  Why do you always raise your hand, like that, 'Mione?”

Her response, “Because I know the answer…” was barely audible above her sniffles.

“Well, I know the answers too sometimes, but the teacher never calls on me because your hand is always up there waving about.”

Hermione just continued to sniffle so Harry suggested, “Maybe if you give other people a chance before raising your hand… people might like you a little better.” She nodded reluctantly. 

Harry turned back to his brother. “I think you should say sorry.”

“Sorry,” the response was a bare mummer.

“Sorry for what?”

 “You sound like Lily…” Neville responded. Harry just continued to frown at him with his piercing green eyes, so like his mother’s.  Finally, swallowing his pride, Neville amended, “I’m sorry for calling you a know-it-all teacher’s pet.”

“And?”

“…and I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

The young girl stifled her sobs and replied primly, “Your apology is accepted.”

“See, most kids would have just said…”

“You might also try talking less like a grown up and start using words we can understand…” Harry interrupted and that was the end of that.  The dispute was forgotten and the trio went back to being friends. 

Hermione, true to her word, attempted to be less of a know-it-all and, while she wasn’t exactly drowning in offers of friendship, as time went by, she was no longer shunned so much, until eventually the sneers stopped completely and the children moved on to a new target. 

The first time she was included in an invitation to play mixed dodge ball, in mid-September, she thought she might be imagining it.  She almost said ‘no,’ wanting to avoid the embarrassment of being exposed as a bad player.  But a nudge from the boys brought out her courage and she actually enjoyed herself and found out she wasn’t all that bad at it. 

After the game, Harry confided in her, “If you thought that was fun wait till you learn to play Quidditch. Now that’s wicked…”

Neville cut him off. “Harry! Stop being a snoot.”  Turning to Hermione, he added, “We’ve never actually been allowed to play.  Lily won’t even let us ride a real broomstick…”

“You actually ride brooms? Like in the movies?  Wizards too?  I thought it was only witches… What’s Quidditch? What do you mean real brooms?  Do you have to imagine now? Or do you ride those little plastic ones they sell at the toy store? What colour is your toy broom? Do all brooms fly?  Would it work if I went home and tried with the kitchen broom?” and so started the endless string of questions, such that by the time she stopped for a breath, the boys had already forgotten what the first one had been.  Luckily they were saved from having to bluff their way through another of Hermione’s drillings by the bell…

The subject came up again after lunch, but by then she had calmed down somewhat from spending time in class, and her questions came out one at a time.  Still, half the questions were of the type that even full-grown wizards would have been hard-pressed to come up with an acceptable answer.  But by then they were used to it.

However, being used to Hermione’s questions didn’t mean that they didn’t sometimes get frustrated with her.  The problem was compounded by the time she got around to asking the same question for the tenth time.  Honestly, how was a pair of five-year-old wizards supposed to know why some children were magical and others weren’t?  Asking, “Why isn’t my cousin a witch like me if our parents are twins and we even look alike?” didn’t make the question any easier to answer.

So naturally, the eleventh time she brought up the subject – in a span of merely two weeks –Harry lost his temper. “I don’t know!”

A pleading glance in Neville’s direction provided her with no better answer to her question. “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t know either.”

But Hermione was nothing if not persistent and so she decided to come up with a different solution to her problem.  After all, she really did want to know the answer to the question –almost as much as she had wanted to know where babies came from before she had got her parents to tell her.  How did she deal with the dilemma? She invited herself over.  That’s right, she said quite clearly, “Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to come home with you after school and ask your mother.  I’m sure she’ll know.”

The reaction she got from her friends was certainly not what she expected.  From the look they exchanged, it was obvious that they were silently arguing as to who would get the honour of explaining to her that that wouldn’t be possible. She took it out of their hands. “What, why can’t I come to your house? Are you hiding criminals in your cellar?”

Neville gave an uncomfortable shrug and Harry answered, “Cause of the Secret…”

“What secret, magic? But I know about that… we talk about magic all the time.  I know all about your funny clock and walking cloak hanger, and fireplace that people pop their head out of and…”

“No, not magic, Neville…” 

“But Neville’s not a secret, silly. He’s right here.” By now the boy in question was staring at his feet and looked uncomfortable enough to use accidental magic to escape the conversation.

In a whisper he cut in, “I’m not a secret, but where I live is…”

“'Cause he’s famous,” offered Harry.

The comment warranted a beet-red blush from Neville and an indignant response from Hermione, “He’s not famous, silly.”

Harry giggled, “Not for Muggles, they don’t even know about You-Know-Who, but Mum says every witch and wizard knows about Neville, 'cause of what happened when his parents died.”

“You-Know-Who? What happened?”

Harry replied, “He was a really bad wizard, he gave Neville his scar,” just as Neville responded, “We’re not supposed to talk about it…”

Deciding that she wasn’t going to get anything out of them the way the conversation was going, she tried a different approach, “Fine, but why can’t I come over?  I promise I won’t tell.  Besides, if he’s not famous for Muggles, no one I would tell would care either way…”

“'Cause of the Secret.”

“But I just said…”

“No, no you don’t understand…” Harry cut in.

“The Secret is a spell…”

“So that no one can see him at home unless the Secret-Keeper tells them he lives there”

“Huh? You mean he disappears?  But what if someone follows him home?  Then they’ll know where he lives…”

“It’s the magic.  They wouldn’t be able to see him at home and as soon as they leave they won’t remember where the house is anymore unless the Secret-Keeper tells them…”

“So?  We’ll just ask the Secret-Keeper to tell me then.  Who is he?  Could he come by tomorrow? Or I could go home with you anyways.  I mean, it would be kind of funny not to be able to see Neville.  But then I can talk to your mum and she can answer my question, and…”

“We’re not allowed to bring anyone home.  ‘Sides, Gran doesn’t want anyone else to know. She didn’t even want to tell Colin.”

“Colin?”

“He’s our neighbour,” offered Harry.

“And he thought I was Harry’s imaginary friend.”

“But Mum made her change her mind.”

Hermione responded, “Well then… you can ask your mum to convince her again.  I’m sure she’d love to meet me.” Just as Neville finished his brother’s thought, “But she said never again.”

She frowned, finally at a loss for a solution. “Oh…”

“We’re really sorry, we’ll try asking…”

“But she’s going to say no…”

Trying to lighten the mood, Harry suggested, “Maybe we can go to your house one day…”

“Gran would never allow it…”

“We’ll ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank my beta, Arnel, for all her help.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to LegalAlien1 at FF.net who's review to Chapter 23 inspired one of the scenes.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains mentions to corporal punishment which may be offensive to some individuals.

The boys went home that afternoon and pleaded with Lily. She responded by saying that she was happy they had made such a good friend; however, she wasn't the one who needed convincing they be allowed to spend time with her after school.  The discussion ended with her promising to bring the subject up with Augusta.

And she did.  She fire-called Neville's grandmother after dinner and invited her over to discuss the matter.  Although Lily had wanted to spare them hearing her refusal first-hand, the boys insisted on remaining to hear the response.  

Unfortunately, Augusta didn't even wait to hear the entirety of the proposal before putting forward her refusal, "I thought I had made my position on the matter unmistakably clear.  The boys are not to…"

Surprisingly, it was Neville that interrupted, "Shut up!  Shut up!  You ruin everything!  Why won't you just let me be happy?"

Augusta was shocked into silence by his outburst, but outrage quickly became the dominant expression on her face.  She did not yell, but her tone when she addressed him made her anger perfectly clear. "Neville Argus Longbottom!  You will _not_ speak to me that way.  I will _not_ tolerate such disrespect.  You are not too old for me to take you over my knee.  Come _here_."  When he failed to approach she repeated herself, "Come here, _now._ If I have to come get you…"

This time he shuffled towards her.  He said nothing more as each of ten blows fell squarely on his rear but the look on his tear-streaked face said it all. 

As soon as she released her hold on him he jumped hurriedly away.  Glaring at her a final time, he yelled, "I HATE YOU!!" then turned and stomped his way up to his room.  Harry followed close behind, though less noisily.

After they had left, an awkward silence remained.  Lily, wisely, let the subject drop for the moment – now was not the time to rehash her opinion of Augusta's methods of disciplining her grandson – and they discussed other things.  However, just as the older witch was leaving she added, "Why don't you surprise the boys tomorrow, pick them up from school.  You haven't spent any quality time together in ages.  Neville might even forgive you for tonight…"

The next day found the boys struggling to explain to their friend that they'd been unable to convince Neville's Gran to let her visit.  To their surprise, she did not look as disappointed as they expected she'd be. 

"You're not upset?" asked Neville.

"Yes, of course I am.  But there's no use crying over spilt milk.  I've decided that if I can't come over to your house to ask your mum my questions, the next best option is to ambush her when she comes to pick up you up today.  Which reminds me, I've been wondering…" Harry and Neville exchanged a look of dread; those three words were never a good start to a sentence.  "Why does your mum come pick you up every day?  Couldn't you take the bus with everyone else?"

The boys exchanged a look, trying to decide how best to answer that question.  Finally Neville answered, "Because Gran is panoid."

A look of puzzlement crossed the young witch's face, "Panoid?"  It wasn't often she came across a word she didn't know.

"Yeah, she's afraid we're going to be kidnapped," elaborated Harry.

"Oh, you mean paranoid?"

"Something like that... That's what James said when Gran bought Lily the car…"

_~*~_

_"Lily, dear, why is there a car in the drive?"_

_"Augusta bought it for us."_

_James snorted.  "Augusta bought a car?  At a Muggle dealership?"_

_"Actually, she just paid for it.  I chose it.  Do you like it?"_

_Ignoring the question, James latched on to the first part of her response. "You went with her?" At her cautious nod, his expression darkened. "And you didn't feel inclined to discuss it with me first, because...?"_

_"I didn't know myself till this morning.  It all happened rather suddenly."  Noting that he'd calmed down enough to listen to her explanation, she continued, "Augusta came over this morning to discuss the logistics of the boys' enrollment at school.  There were still a few wrinkles to iron out of the cover story.  The subject of transportation came up.  I mentioned that the school bus seemed the logical choice since it's too far to walk.  She didn't like the idea and wanted me to drop them off and pick them up in person every day…  That's when she decided we needed a car.  Practically dragged me out of the house to go buy one – the boys were still in their pajamas!  It was all I could do to insist they be given time to dress, there was certainly no time to call you…"_

_By the time she finished her story, James' anger had completely faded.  Now he was just annoyed – at Augusta, not his wife. "And did she happen to mention why they couldn't take the school bus?"_

_Lily smiled. "Apparently, they're 'liable to be kidnapped' and she doesn't want to take any chances."_

_"Let me get this straight.  Augusta thinks that Death Eaters – who incidentally know next to nothing about Muggles, aside from how best to torture and kill them – are going to kidnap the boys from a_ Muggle _bus on their way to a_ Muggle _school in an almost entirely_ Muggle _village?  So, she spent over a thousand Galleons on a brand new Muggle car so that you can drive them to school?"_

_"That sums it up nicely, yes."_

_"Then, it's official, that woman is_ paranoid _."_

~*~  
  


Surprisingly, Augusta actually did show up to pick up Harry and Neville in Lily's stead.  Perhaps she honestly didn't catch on that Lily was scheming.  It seems more likely though that she was genuinely afraid she wouldn't be forgiven and sensed the challenge in Lily's words.  Or perhaps she just wanted to prove she'd been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason.  Regardless of her reasons, the fact remained that she went.  What she encountered when she got there was not what she'd expected…

Hermione, who'd been waiting with them to meet Lily, excitedly introduced herself by saying, "Are you really Neville's Gran?  He talks about you all the time… Can I ask you a question?  I was going to ask Harry's mum but Harry says he's not allowed to invite me over because you don't want anyone to know where Neville lives – even though I'm Muggleborn and I don't know any other wizards and I wouldn't tell anyone – because of someone named You-Know-Who…Was his name really You-Know-Who, because that must have been really confusing growing up…?  So can I ask you instead because it's a really important question…almost as important as where babies come from and I really want…" 

Now, Augusta was unaccustomed to inquisitive children asking _her_ questions, especially one Hermione Granger.  She blanched at hearing the question compared to the dreaded "Where do babies come from?" and reacted by shutting her up in the only way she knew would work.  What did she do? She bent down at whispered in her ear, "Neville lives at number 5 Cherry Road with the Potters.  Why don't you ask Lily like you planned?" 

And so Hermione Granger became Neville's second friend to know where he lived…  She actually squealed at this revelation and was so excited that she almost asked if she could come over right away, forgetting for a moment that she really should ask her parents first and that if she didn't hurry she'd miss her bus home.

Unfortunately, Hermione didn't get to meet the Potters till the next day.  She met Lily first.  The first thing she did, after introducing herself, was ask the oh-so-important question that she'd already asked the boys eleven times. 

But, Lily didn't know either and ended up giving her a non-committal response, "Magic works in mysterious ways, dear.  My own sister hasn't an ounce of magic in her.  In fact she hates magic so much that we haven't spoken to each other in years.  The only reason I know she's still alive is that she still sends back every Christmas and birthday card I send her." 

So Hermione drew her own conclusions that deep down inside, all Muggles didn't like magic or wouldn't want to be magic and that's why they weren't witches or wizards.  Then she let the matter drop, and instead asked the other question that had been nagging her since she'd first laid eyes on Lily, "Mrs. Potter, are you having a baby?  Your belly's very big, even bigger than Mother's was before she got sick and my baby sister died." 

Lily, just smiled, and replied, "Yes, dear, any day now," before ushering her off to play with the boys.

Hermione met James when he came home from work that evening, and he walked her home before dinner.  But as her visits became more frequent – as in daily – and the Potter household became more chaotic with the birth of Heather Lily Potter a week later, on September 24th, her parents insisted on coming to pick her up themselves. 

Before they arrived, Lily pulled her aside and reminded her of the Charms protecting the house.  "I'm sure the boys told you about the Secret before you came here… Remember, if your parents ask, this is Harry's house.  Neville visited too but he's already left.  He's not here.  Understand?"  At the young girl's solemn nod she continued, "There are also spells on the house to prevent Muggles, like your parents, from noticing the magical objects lying about.  Don't try to correct them, okay?"  Another nod. "Good, now run along and play with the boys till your parents get here."

By the time Hermione began staying over for dinner some nights, her parents insisted on reciprocating.  It took surprisingly little pleading, on the part of the boys, to get Augusta to allow the boys to spend some afternoons with the Grangers.

The friendship grew.  The three still let Colin join in on their games, and sometimes they even let two-year-old Dennis tag-along.  But, it wasn't quite the same.  He couldn't join them at school or at Hermione's house.  The three came to be such good friends that Hermione often turned down offers to skip rope with her female classmates in favour of playing with the duo.  That's not to say she didn't play with the girls sometimes, that wouldn't have been very nice…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that didn't pick up the very few and very vague and scattered clues I dropped in the last few chapters, Heather was conceived in chapter 21. Let me know what you thought of this chapter.
> 
> Many thanks to my pre-beta Mistri Tonks' Admirer, and my beta Arnel.


	26. Chapter 26

Usually, when the boys went over to Hermione’s house they played outside in the yard. They’d been in the house certainly, but she’d never had occasion to invite them up to her room. But November 3rd, was rainy day and they couldn’t very well stay out in the rain, so Hermione invited them up to her room for the first time.

There wasn’t a single toy in sight; not simply because Hermione was a very neat little girl –which she was –and had put them all away, but because there was no toy chest in the room. The only furniture, aside from her bed and chest of drawers, was a shelf filled with books, and the occasional board game, lining one wall, and a desk equipped with reading lamp, by the window.

Curious, Harry picked a book off the shelf. Surprised at the text-filled page, he replaced it and picked up another. When the second, and third where equally devoid of pictures, he asked, “Don’t you have any books with pictures in them?”

“Sure,” She plucked a large volume off the bottom shelf, “Here, the encyclopaedia has plenty of interesting photographs. There’s even one of…”

“No, no, storybooks, where all the storybooks?”

“You mean the picture books? Those are all in the nursery. But we can’t go in there because it’s locked up tight. Mother and Father didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that my baby sister never got to use it on account of dying before she was even born. But, they were mostly childish stuff anyway… Mother and I are reading ‘ _Jane Eyre_ ’1 now, which I am quite enjoying.”

Neville sighed, “I suppose the toys are all locked away too…”

“Of course. Well, except for the Rubik’s Cube… We can play a board game though. I have plenty: Trivial Pursuit, Monopoly, Scotland Yard, Cluedo, Scrabble … I particularly enjoy Scrabble even though I still lose most of the time, since I can’t spell many words yet. But, I’ve been getting better ever since I started reading the dictionary. It would be interesting to play against someone my own age… Do you think we could?”

Harry and Neville exchanged twin looks of alarm. Finally, Neville answered for them both, “I don’t think that would work. Harry and I don’t know how to write many words –except for our own names. Where’d you learn to write anyway? We only just started to learn at school …”

“Father taught me some, the rest I’ve picked up from reading.”

“You can read too?” blurted Harry.

Hermione nodded shyly, realizing –perhaps for the first time –that her peers might not share many of the skills she took for granted. “Maybe we can play Scotland Yard instead; you don’t have to be able to read for that one.” She moved to pick the game off the shelf.

Harry took one glance at it and decided it did not sound fun, “I have a better idea. Let’s play Hide and Seek.”

Neville nodded his agreement. “Maybe we can play the board game later, if it keeps raining,” he added diplomatically. Harry glared at him for the suggestion but, luckily, Hermione didn’t notice.

“Okay, but my father’s study and my parents’ bedroom –the two rooms at the end of the hall –are off limits. Mother and Father would not approve of me bringing friends in there. We shouldn’t go into Mother’s study downstairs either –that’s where she is now –but it’ll probably be locked so that’s not really a problem… Base is my bed.” She sat down on it, “I’ll count first.” That said, she closed her eyes and started counting backwards from one hundred, “One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven…”

The boys, not knowing how far ninety-seven was from zero, needed no further encouragement to take off in search of a hiding place.

Harry took off down the stairs, while Neville, heading the other way, tried the door to the room next to Hermione’s. It was locked, which is why Hermione hadn’t thought to include the nursery in her list of forbidden rooms. Neville was about to move on to the next door –a closet as it so happens –when it occurred to him that hiding behind a supposedly locked door would be the best place to hide. It was a Muggle lock, unlike the locking charms Lily used at home; he could probably get it to open if he wished hard enough.

Hermione’s voice drifted down the hall, “Seventy-one, seventy, sixty-nine…” No time like the present. He focused hard on getting the door open –doing magic on purpose was hard –and grinned when his efforts were rewarded with a soft click. He scrambled into the room, pulling the door closed behind him, and grinned again; Hermione would never find him in here…

And she didn’t. Having been discovered under the sofa half an hour ago, Harry was getting tired of waiting for Hermione to find Neville and joined the search. It was he who finally threw open the door in the nursery to find Neville calmly rummaging through Hermione's box of Lego bricks, which he had retrieved from one of the shelves of the nursery.  

When they entered, he looked up, “You really have a lot of cool toys, Hermione. It’s stupid that they have to be locked up.”

Taking in the contents of the room, Harry added, “I think you should hide some toys under your bed. Bet your Mum wouldn’t even notice. She’s in that office of hers every time we come over. And then you could play something fun once in a while.”

Hermione had a strange look on her face. She hadn’t said a word since she’d stepped into the room. Instead, she stared blankly at the toys she’d given up two and a half years ago, when her parents a sealed them in along with the memories they wanted hide from. She’d tried to tell herself that they were childish things and that she didn’t need them but as she caught sight of Annie, the redheaded doll that had been her near-constant companion for the first three years of her life, she burst into tears.  

She ran over to pluck it off the shelf and hug it tightly. It seemed smaller than she remembered, but it was she that had grown and not the doll that had shrunk. She’d grown, yes, but not so much as to give up on dolls. The tears flowed freely; she was tired of pretending to be grown up.

It was probably no more than a few minutes later –though time had lost meaning to her –that Harry and Neville joined the hug. “It’s okay, Hermione. Lily says crying is good for you.” They didn’t break apart till the sound of Mrs. Granger calling up the stairs that it was dinnertime reached their ears.

In a flurry of activity they cleaned up the toys that Neville had taken out and scampered off to Hermione’s room to hide the doll under her pillow –Hermione didn’t want to hide it under the bed –before finally rushing down the stairs to dinner, as though nothing had changed. When admonished for the delay, Hermione replied in her usual prim voice, “Sorry, Mother. I was reading to the boys and lost track of time. We just wanted to finish the chapter.” No one contradicted her.

It wasn’t till a week later that the truth of what they’d really been doing came out. It turned out that under her pillow was really not the best place for Hermione to hide her doll. When her mother lifted the pillow to retrieve Hermione’s nightdress for washing, she discovered the doll there.

When asked where she’d gotten it, Hermione was forced to admit that she’d been in the nursery. When asked how she’d gotten in, Hermione just shrugged her shoulders, “Neville must have picked the lock. We were playing hide and seek…” This revelation sparked a phone call to Lily about the bad influence the boys were being on her little angel. She would have called Augusta too had she known the number…

Thankfully, Mr. and Mrs. Granger hated seeing their daughter miserable, and being forbidden to visit with or invite the boys over made her miserable, so the prohibition of contact with the two wizards didn’t last long. In the end, they even let her place all her toys in her own room before locking the nursery up again –with a dead bolt this time. She was their only daughter –and the apple of their eye –after all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 ‘Jane Eyre’ does not belong to me. It was first published in 1847 by Charlotte Bronte under the pseudonym Currer Bell. It has since been republished many times since.
> 
> A.N. I admit I may have taken some liberties concerning Hermione’s home life but I don’t think they’re too much of a stretch. After all, JKR tells us that she planned to give Hermione a younger sister old enough to appear during one of the first 5 books (She stated “it feels like it might be too late now” in an interview after OotP was published) but never got around to it. Three years seemed like a reasonable age gap for me.
> 
> A special thanks goes out to Mistri Tonks’ Admirer whose comments about a quote from last chapter prompted me to type up what I’d jotted down. He also proved instrumental to my brainstorming of this chapter. Thanks, as well, to my beta, Arnel, who was a tremendous aid ironing out the wrinkles in this chapter.


	27. Chapter 27

Any hard feelings between the Grangers and the Potters didn’t last long. Considering how often Hermione was over, it was hard for her parents to hold a grudge. By mid-November, the argument was all but forgotten.

In fact, when James came home one autumn evening he was shocked into silence by his wife jumping into his arms, “You’ll never guess what happened today! Marcia called. She and Robert just won four tickets to see a performance of Swan Lake on Saturday. She invited us as a thank-you for all the times we’ve had Hermione over.”

“We’re going to watch swans swim in a lake?”

“No, of course not, it’s a ballet about a princess who’s been turned into a swan.”

James groaned, “Oh, are you sure it’s a thank-you rather than her subtle way of getting back at us for the stunt Neville pulled the last time the boys were over? Because, it sounds torturously lame…”

He didn’t see the slap coming.

“While you’re out of the house all day, I’ve been at home with a baby that never sleeps and two hooligans who can’t sit still for ten minutes at a time. We’re going to the ballet because I need a break, and Swan Lake was my favourite ballet as a child. Remus can watch the children.”

After her reaction to his comments about the ballet, it was with reluctance that he pointed out, “Lily dear, you do realize that Friday is the full moon… Remus won’t be in any condition to baby-sit on Saturday.”

It was a sure sign of how excited she was — or how badly she needed a break — that she merely sighed and responded, “Then we’ll have to ask the mangy mutt to watch to kids.”

James tried not to let his shock at the suggestion show; the boys had never been left alone with Sirius before, anytime Lily had any say in the matter. She’d even been reluctant to let him hold Harry when he’d been Heather’s age.

Her newfound tolerance for Sirius had its limits though. When, by some stroke of misfortune, the Grangers’ baby-sitter cancelled at the last minute on Saturday, it was with great reluctance that Lily suggested exposing her to Sirius.

He certainly didn’t make much of an effort to prove her reluctance unfounded. In fact, despite Lily’s vehement objections, he waited by the door in dog form and greeted Hermione with a big slobbery lick when she came in the door. His actions left Lily fuming and fumbling for an explanation of the dog’s presence. With barely veiled anger — it wouldn’t do to appear angry at the dog — she said, “Padfoot, go get Sirius. The Grangers want to meet the baby _sitter._ ”

That he somehow managed to appear presentable when he sauntered back into the room as a human — in form anyway — did not go very far to placate Lily. But Sirius was nothing if not a charmer and the Grangers, at least, were reassured. Their hurry to get going prevented Lily from having a final private word with him about being on his best behaviour. A glare his way and a comment seemingly directed at Harry and Neville, “We’re off. I expect you boys to be on best behaviour,” had to suffice.

Dense though he might pretend to be, her message wasn’t lost on Sirius. He turned to the three children gathered before him, “Well, you heard the woman, go have fun — but don’t wake the baby, please.”

Moments later a shaggy black dog was chasing them up the stairs to the room the boys shared. He probably would have kept chasing them, but Heather, hearing the commotion, decided it was time to wake up.

So Hermione and the boys were left to their own devices once more. “So…” began Harry, “what should we play?”

It was Hermione that answered first. “Let’s play house.” The boys just groaned. “Come on, please. I brought Annie and everything. I’ll be the Mummy. Neville, you can be the Daddy. And Harry, you can be the unemployed, bachelor uncle.”

“Do I have to?” whined Harry. He didn’t know what an unemployed bachelor was, but it didn’t sound fun. “How about we play Aurors and Dark wizards? I can be the evil Dark wizard and kidnap you and the baby. And Neville can be the Auror that comes to the rescue.”

Hermione shook her head, “No! We always play what you want. I’m tired of being kidnapped… Tonight we play house, and that’s final!”

“Fine! But I’m not being an unployed batlor!”

“ _Unemployed bachelor_ , honestly! You really have to work on your vocabulary… What would you rather be then? The dog?”

“I can be the Dark Lord Baldiewort who wants to kill the baby.”

“No!”

“Fine! I’ll be Padfoot then…”

So they played house. Mostly, it comprised of Hermione ordering the boys around and them rolling their eyes and complying, though Harry had some definite ideas of what Padfoot’s role in the game should be and Neville firmly refused to take part in any baby care activities.

Finally, about an hour later, the sound of a real baby shrieking interrupted their game. They’d heard Heather cry plenty often since she’d joined the household and while they weren’t happy with it — especially when she woke the house asking to be fed — Lily had explained why babies cried and they’d learnt to ignore it. Besides, the grown-ups usually calmed her down in no time.

Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to be calming down this time. Her screams were getting louder and harder to ignore. More to the point, the boys were aching for an excuse to abandon the imposed game. So, deciding that Sirius obviously didn’t know how to make her quiet they trekked downstairs to find out what the problem was.

What they found when they reached the kitchen would probably have been funny if not for the screaming. Sirius stood by the kitchen sink, holding the screeching baby at arms’ length. Both were thoroughly drenched and covered in suds — the result of a cleaning spell gone awry. A clearly soiled nappy lay nearby and the contents of Lily’s nappy bag were spread out in disarray on the table.

Taking in the scene, Hermione brought her hands to her hips and, in a tone that would have done her mother proud, exclaimed, “What is going on down here?” though she already had a fairly good idea of what his answer would be.

Not expecting such a tone from one of his charges, Sirius’ exasperated response was harsher than strictly necessary, “What does it look like I’m doing? Trying to change the little brat’s nappy. Only she won’t stop yelling.”

Hermione continued to direct him a look that clearly asked, “ _What are you, an idiot?_ ” before finally asking, “Haven’t you ever changed a nappy before?”

Sirius, feeling rather inadequate at the moment, replied testily, “No, have you?”

She just smiled at him, that superior grin still on her face, “No, of course not, I’m only six. But I’ve seen it done. You’re doing it all wrong. How do you expect her to feel safe if you hold her like that? And why is she all wet?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, instead she turned to the boys and said, “One of you go get a towel.” She then turned to the table and plucked the changing pad from the disorderly pile Sirius had made. She laid it flat on the table and turned to Sirius, “Put her down here, _gently_.” As he did so, she grabbed a toy out the pile as well and handed it to the crying baby, tickling her belly as she did so, “Here you go. There, there, no need to cry. We’ll have you all dried and clean in no time.”

By the time she quieted Heather down, the boys had returned with the towel. Hermione handed it to Sirius, “Dry her off, gently.” Once he had done that she continued, “Okay, now according to _You and Your Baby: A Step-by-step Guide to Good Parenting and Brighter Babies_ by J. W. Staines and Margery J. Mitchell, you have to start by…” She droned on for quite a while longer, but eventually Sirius did manage to get Heather changed and back to bed.

As he shooed the trio out once more — a little more quietly this time — he said a silent prayer that Lily would never hear of the incident… That she never let him baby-sit again for a _very_ long time is evidence enough that his prayers were in vain… Though he really should have known that five-year-olds weren’t very good at keeping secrets…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta, Arnel, who suggested the whole nappy change fiasco. Thanks also to Mistri, Tonks’ Admirer who helped me work out the details and edited this chapter for you all.
> 
> You and Your Baby: A Step-by-step Guide to Good Parenting and Brighter Babies by J. W. Staines and Margery J. Mitchell is a real book. I haven’t read it myself so I can’t vouch for what it actually contains, but it was published August 2nd, 1979 — about a month before Hermione was born — so it’s perfectly reasonable that her parents might have had it lying around the house.


	28. Chapter 28

"This is stupid!"

Both Harry and Neville set down their pencils and turned to their friend with matching dropped jaws. Had Hermione just called a school assignment stupid? She never complained about class work being stupid—boring or easy perhaps—but never stupid. Usually she spent a good deal of her time admonishing them for doing so, or for skiving off when they were supposed to be working.

"No really!" she insisted, whispering so that only her friends could hear, "Father Christmas is just a myth invented by parents to scare us into being good, and perpetuated by the media to increase consumer spending."

Neville's eyes met Harry's as he shook his head in exasperation. Why did she have to use such big words? All he'd understood was that she didn't believe in Father Christmas. He opened his mouth to contradict her but she wasn't finished…

"Seriously!? Letters to Father Christmas!? I almost wrote one when I was four—I thought maybe Santa could send me a baby sister since my last one died before she could be born—but Mother explained all about how letters addressed to Santa's Grotto are actually answered by the staff at Royal Mail. So, I really don't understand why Miss Karen is wasting—"

"Of course Father Christmas is real!" Harry interrupted, louder than intended, then checking to see that no one was listening—Miss Karen was across the room helping another student and everyone else was engrossed in their letter-writing—he added, "He's a wizard," his voice dropping to a barely audible whisper.

Hermione shook her own head, still unconvinced, and would have objected if the teacher—having noticed the brewing argument but not its content— had not chosen that exact moment to appear by her desk, smiling kindly as she asked, "How's your letter coming along, dear?"

Unwilling, despite her earlier rant, to complain directly to her teacher, Hermione picked up her pencil and bowed her head, feigning concentration, "Fine, Miss."

If Miss Karen in any way suspected her insincerity, she gave no indication, offering a final smile to her best student before moving on.

Though Hermione turned her concentration back to completing her letter, and didn't say another word regarding the existence of Father Christmas, Harry's words echoed in her mind. Could her mother be wrong? Was Father Christmas actually a wizard? Or was that just another lie…?

When the bell finally rang, signalling recess, she, uncharacteristically, jumped out of her seat and practically dragged her two best friends out onto the playground, barely giving them time to pull on their jackets.

Then, the moment they were out of ear-shot of the other children, she rounded on them, "What did you mean about Father Christmas being a wizard?"

"Of course he's a wizard," said Neville, siding with Harry. "How else would he be able to make his reindeer fly?"

"But reindeer _can't_ fly," Hermione objected.

"Sure they can," Harry insisted. "Anything can fly if you enchant it proper."

"Properly," Hermione corrected him automatically. Then seeming to realize what she'd inadvertently agreed to, she argued, "No one man, even a wizard, could possibly visit all the children in the world in just one night, even allowing for different time zones and non-observance of Christmas in some areas."

"Of course he can, if he uses a Time-Turner," Neville responded, not bothering to ask what time zones were, or what 'no-obsevans' meant—no need to give her more of an excuse to enter lecture mode…

"So you honestly believe that a fat old wizard uses magic to enchant reindeer to fly then turns time to squeeze himself down millions of chimneys in one night to deliver toys to _good_ little boys and girls?" Hermione huffed, arms crossed.

Harry shook his head. "Nuhuh, Sirius says he uses Floo powder to get into people's fireplaces, 'cause his fat ass wouldn't fit in a chimney. And he uses magic to make fireplaces in homes that don't have any, but 'most everyone has a fireplace 'else they can't use the Floo."

"Seriously! Of all the nonsensical…" Hermione threw up her arm in frustration. "And it has never occurred to you that they might all be lying?"

"Lily never lies," Neville insisted his own shaking head mirroring Harry's. "You can ask her yourself if you don't believe us."

Surely if she explained rationally to Mrs Potter about her scepticism, the older witch would come clean about her duplicity… "I believe I might just do that." Hermione nodded, so caught up in her thoughts that she missed her friends' twin sighs of relief.

* * *

Hermione wasted no time making good on her promise.

The very next time she was invited over to the Potters' she brushed off the boys' suggestion that she join them and Colin in making a snowman in the yard. Instead, she tracked down Lily in the kitchen and plopped herself down at the kitchen counter. Not giving the older witch a chance to ask why she wasn't outside with the boys, she launched straight into voicing her grievances, "The boys and I had a bit of a disagreement the other day at school, that I was hoping to settle with you, woman to woman."

Lily smiled indulgently, amused at her precociousness. "I'm not sure how I can help you with an argument you had with the boys. Merlin knows I can't control what comes out of their mouths, much as I might try. Why, even James can't, 'else I wouldn't know half the mishaps he tries to keep secret, and he shares their gender."

Hermione shook her head, then leaning forward, elbows on the counter, continued, "No, I'm quite certain that you can help with this, seeing as you're the primary propagator of the falsehood…"

Lily stood up straight, and dropped one of the biscuits she'd been rolling. She wasn't so much surprised at the vocabulary coming from the six-year-old—that she'd come to expect—but to hear her straight out accuse her, the mother of a friend, of lying…

Hands at her hips, her indulgent smile faded instantly, "Now see here—"

Hermione didn't let Lily complete her reprimand. "My parents and I have discussed the subject of Father Christmas extensively," she began, launching into a veritable diatribe which included just about every possible argument for why Father Christmas couldn't possibly exist. "So, of course, there's no such thing as Father Christmas, but Harry and Neville won't believe me because they claim that you told them that he was real and a wizard."

Lily smiled, all trace of anger replaced with amusement. She'd given up on trying to interrupt the six-year-old after the second minute of speech with barely any pause for breath. Now rather than try to counter—or even remember—half the arguments presented, she answered simply, "Those are all very good Muggle arguments but, given what you know about magic, do any of them prove anything?"

Hermione huffed. Time to try a different tact…

"Now I know that the boys can sometimes be naughty," she began. "So I can understand why you might feel the need to lie to them, to scare them into being good. But I'm already good; surely you can be honest with me."

Lily shook her head in amusement, but refused to be drawn in, "What makes you think the boys are naughtier than you?"

"Well, they're hardly particularly studious," Hermione scoffed, "and they are often skiving off and playing pranks."

Lily laughed. "Now, now, dear, much as I would like the boys to apply themselves more at school, the fact that they don't study as hard as you, or that they can be devious and sneaky—especially when they spend a little too much time with James and his friends—doesn't make them bad boys."

Hermione opened her mouth to object, but Lily cut her off, her voice stern, "And I don't suggest repeating such comments to them if you want them to continue being friends with you. No one likes someone who acts superior to them. Now why don't you run along and play with the boys before your parents show up; that is why you came over, isn't it?"

As Hermione found herself shooed out of the kitchen, she was left with the sinking feeling that she'd been outmanoeuvred. Lily had neither overtly stated that Father Christmas was real nor had she admitted that he was a fabrication…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta, Arnel, for sticking with me after all these years, and for the quick turnaround on this chapter.


	29. Chapter 29

"Oh good! Hermione's here!"

Harry's breathless exclamation, from across the yard, startled the Hermione out of her brooding about Lily and Father Christmas.

She looked up from her feet, to the sight of the panting raven-haired wizard draped across a large snowball that came almost half way up his chest.

"We're trying to put the middle part on our snowman, but it's heavy, so we can't reach," he explained.

"But you're taller than all of us and really strong for a girl!" Neville piped in, grinning up from where he'd collapsed on the snow-covered ground, halfway between Harry and a second, even larger, snowball.

Hermione eyed the two snowballs dubiously. The bigger of the two was taller than Colin, who was slumped against it—probably even as tall as she was. How the boys had managed to roll it was beyond her. The second ball was about a third smaller, but even at that… "Snow is heavy" she scoffed, "We'll never be able to lift that monstrosity over our heads… And, even if we do manage to lift it, how are we going to get the head on?"

"We can lift Colin, and he'll put it on," answered Harry, undeterred.

"Colin is going to lift the head, all on his own," Hermione answered, her voice dripping with skepticism, "when the three of you together can't lift the middle section?"

"But the head will be smaller," Neville insisted, pushing himself up off the ground.

"It won't be _that_ much smaller." Hermione shook her head, refusing—so soon after her disagreement with Lily—to admit that he was probably right about the head. Judging from the size of it, the middle section had to weigh at least fifteen stone. Even with the four of them working together, there was no way they'd be able to lift it. So really, the weight of the hypothetical head was a moot point.

Still, moot point or not, she refused to back down. "Do you really expect the three of us to be able to lift Colin _and_ the head?"

For almost a full minute, nobody answered.

"Maybe we should call Lily to help us?" Colin suggested hesitantly. "She can use magic to–"

"Not unless you want her to burn the cookies!" Hermione cut the younger boy off abruptly, still smarting from being outmaneuvered by the older witch. She would have said more but Harry and Neville fixed her with matching glares, effectively cutting her off.

"He was just trying to help," snapped Neville, "no need to be rude."

"Yeah!" Harry took a step towards her, hands on his hips. "What do _you_ suggest Miss Smarty-pants!?"

Hermione sighed. The truth was that she didn't _have_ a solution, short of reducing the snowman's size to something more manageable—if they shaved nine inches off the bottom, they could shave six inches and eight stone off the middle… But she wasn't going to tell the boys _that._

Instead, frowning in concentration, she cast her gaze over the yard, desperately seeking inspiration.

The half-collapsed snow-fort from the snowball fight the boys had dragged her into last weekend—useless.

A couple of snow-covered trees, too slippery to climb—also useless.

Three child-sized snow-shovels, abandoned in the snow, too small to be of use lifting a two-and-a-half-foot snowball—useless.

The Potter's crimson red sled, which Neville's Gran refused to let the boys use because she considered downhill sledding dangerous, propped up against the fence—usele...no, wait, not useless! Hills went both ways!

Her expression morphed from frown to grin. "We'll build a ramp!"

"A ramp?" asked Colin.

"Yes, yes, a ramp," she repeated, nodding enthusiastically, "it'll have to be a pretty long one, but this yard is huge and we have plenty of snow, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"But how's a ramp going to help us?" asked Harry, echoing Colin's confusion.

"Simple," Hermione answered, suppressing a sigh, "It'll be easier to roll the ball up a ramp than it would be to lift it. And the longer we make it, the less steep it'll be, so the easier time we will have pushing it."

For almost a full minute all three boys started at her dubiously, still uncertain how making a ramp would make things easier. If they rolled the snowball on more snow it would get bigger, wouldn't it? Besides, it had been a lot of work to roll the two big balls that they already had, and now Hermione wanted them to build a _long_ ramp?

For her part, Hermione took their silence as acquiescence, and not as reluctance, and proceeded to start barking orders, "Neville, Harry, go get those shovels. Colin you grab the sledge; we're going to need it…"

Harry opened his mouth, as if to object, but Neville's hand on his shoulder cut him off, and he shut it again, reluctantly. Neville was probably right. There was little point in arguing with Hermione when she got into one of her bossy moods. Best do exactly what she'd said; even if it didn't make much sense … it was easier in the end, and more often than not, she ended up being right.

First they fully collapsed the dilapidated snow-fort into a relatively level inclined plane … then one sled-full at a time, they slowly built on their base till they had a four foot tall shallow ramp, ending slightly higher than level with the largest snowball.

Finally, the four of them, working together, heaved the second ball onto the crimson sledge and start tugging it towards the ramp.

But even with the shallow incline, and the four of them pulling on the sledge's rope it took all their strength to move it so much as an inch. And since, to save time and effort, the boys had refused to make the ramp much wider than the sledge, it was so narrow that each time one of them overbalanced, they ended up tumbling off the sides.

The third time Colin wound up collapsed by the side of the ramp, he refused to get up. "This is never going to work," he whined, "It's too heavy. Can't we just go get Lily?"

"No!" Hermione climbed down to give him a hand up. She'd had her doubts at first, but after all the work they'd put in, it was now a matter of pride to follow through to the end. "We're almost there. We can do this!"

Colin eyed the sledge dubiously. They'd been pulling for almost ten minutes, and it had barely budged.

"Tell you what," Hermione said, smiling encouragingly, "you and I can push while Harry and Neville pull. That way we're all less likely to fall off the snow ramp…"

The younger child took a deep breath, staring at his feet as he contemplated his options, but when he finally looked up, he smiled back at her and nodded. "Okay. Let's do this."

Inch by inch, with two pushing and two pulling, they moved the sled up the shallow incline, with no further incident, until finally, with one final heave –and possibly a touch of accidental magic –they rolled the middle ball clear off the sled to a perfect landing dead-centre on the snowman's base.

"Yes!" Harry pumped one fist up in the air "We did it!"

But they'd made the balls rounder than they should have, and despite the force of the impact of one ball on the other, the words of delight had barely left his mouth, when the precariously perched upper ball started to wobble slowly.

"No!" Hermione shouted.

She jumped down from the ramp and started to shove snow into gap between the two snowballs.

It had taken what felt like hours to get the snowball up the ramp. "We are _not_ starting over!" she exclaimed. "Quick! Fill the crack with snow, before it falls!"

Despite her efforts, the ball continued to wobble, and the boys scrambled to follow her lead.

It took several close calls, but they eventually managed to securely fuse the balls together, and move on to rolling a new ball for the head.

At just over one foot in diameter, it was a lot easier to build and roll, than the middle section had been, but it still weighed in at just over two stone, and it took most of their combined might to lift it onto the middle section, from their perch at the edge of their ramp, without sending it tumbling to the ground below.

Then, Hermione, as the master-mind of the ramp system, and the tallest of the four, was given the honour of placing the finishing touches: button eyes, a carrot nose, and a liquorice mouth for the face, branches for arms, and stone buttons down the middle section…

Finally, perched on the edge of the ramp, she reached up and placed an old hat of Lily's on the head, then took a step back to admire the finished product, a snowman twice –

"Watch out!"

Hermione jumped down from her perch as Neville, brandishing a shovel like a sword, came barrelling into the ramp –missing the snowman's base by less than a foot

She took another hurried step back, as Harry and Colin barrelled past her and joined him, with the flourish and enthusiasm of young boys engaged in destruction, intent on destroying all proof of the ramp's existence.

Hermione found a spot to sit a safe distance away from the destruction and watched on, arms crossed, and exasperation barely reined in –cringing each time they got dangerously close to their masterpiece –until the three boys collapsed to the ground, as short of breath as they had been when she had first come out, and giggling madly with uncontained mirth.

They lay there for several minutes, catching their breath as they stared up at their creation, a snowman twice their size...

Finally, Harry found the breath to speak. "Wow! We did it! All by ourselves! Without any help..." Because Hermione didn't count as help –she wasn't a grown-up no matter how much she pretended to be. Still he should probably acknowledge her contribution…

He turned to where she was sitting, arms still crossed, and a frown beginning to form on her face. "Thanks, Hermione. We couldn't have done it without you."

"You're welcome!" Her frown morphed into a smile at the unexpected validation. "That was actually pretty fun..."

The four of them were still laughing when Lily called them in for milk and biscuits. It was a day to remember...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is un-betaed, because I wanted to get it out tonight, and because I am no longer certain that I have a beta. My apologies for the long hiatus. Updates should be more frequent from now on. Happy New Year!


	30. Chapter 30

"You'll never believe what Father Christmas brought me!" exclaimed Hermione.

Harry gaped, taking in her shortness of breath and flushed state, as he opened the front door to admit her. She looked like she had run several blocks –which she had –and was soaking wet from having slipped in the slushy snow on her way from where her parents had parked the car.

And if that wasn’t uncharacteristic enough, the last time Harry had seen her –when school had let out for the holidays a week earlier–she had been stuck on the idea that Father Christmas wasn’t real. What had happened on Christmas, or the two days since, to convince her otherwise, and to put her into such a state? And where were her parents? The Potters had invited all three Grangers over for tea…

 “I thought that you didn't believe in Father Christmas…” commented Neville, voicing the same question as was running through Harry’s mind.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but shut it again as she spotted her parents coming up the walk.

Better to wait till the grown-ups were all safely ensconced in the kitchen, before discussing Father Christmas. After all, Lily had refused to answer her questions on the subject, and her parents… Her parents had been denying the whole thing for years, only to have the nerve to seem surprised this past Christmas morning at the sight of a large present under the tree… A present they both swore that they hadn't bought…

Taking a deep breath to calm her excitement, Hermione pasted a neutral expression on her face –or tried to. She couldn’t quite extinguish the sparkle in the corners of her eyes, as she pretended to ignore the question, replying with a question of her own, "Shall we go up to your room?"

Neville nodded, but whatever had her so excited was contagious and curiosity piqued, he struggled to stand still, shuffling impatiently from side to side, as he watched her meticulously remove her sodden boots, and neatly hang her coat in the hall closet, where a discreet drying charm would insure it was ready to wear when she came back for it.

He wasn’t alone. Beside him, Harry was practically bouncing.

The very instant she shut the door of the hall closet, Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her impatiently in the direction of the stairs.

Ignoring Lily’s warning not to run in the house, Neville chased after them, taking the stairs two at a time to make up for Harry’s head-start. Even the possibility of being denied biscuits for ignoring Lily paled in comparison to his burning curiosity.

He burst through the bedroom door close on Hermione’s heels and waited impatiently while Harry shut their bedroom door, blocking out Lily's admonitions.

Finally, he rounded on Hermione, repeating the question she had ignored earlier, "I thought you said that you didn't believe in Father Christmas!"

"I didn't," Hermione answered, excitement creeping back into her voice as she let her mask drop and sat heavily Neville’s bed, "but there's no denying it now. There's no way that my parents bought it for me. Both Mother and Father denied any involvement in acquiring the gift, though they both blamed each other. 

“Even the paper seemed magical –one of the Father Christmases definitely winked at me –though neither Mother nor Father noticed anything odd about it. I asked –twice.

“Do you think that Father Christmas has only started visiting me now because I only just found out that I was a witch, and that I couldn’t actually get presents from him before because of the Statue of Secrecy that Lily told me about? Or do you think maybe I just couldn’t tell that they were magical gifts from Santa before, the same way my parents still can’t?”

“Huh?” Harry frowned, flopping onto his own bed across from her. Only half of her spiel had registered. Why did she have to use such big words, and talk so fast? But he’d gotten the gist of it, mostly… “Maybe…I don’t know…he _is_ a wizard...”

Neville, still standing by the door shrugged. “I have no idea either. But it sounds like our gifts from Santa were wrapped in the same paper as yours was... What did you get?” he asked, still curious, “something magical?”

“Not magical, no,” Hermione shook her head, “But definitely something that my parents would never buy for me. They might have let me take all my toys back to my room, but there is absolutely no way that they would buy me more toys, and especially not a super-duper deluxe pram for Annie; it would remind them too much of my baby sister that died before she was born…”

Some of her excitement drained at the memory of her parent’s reaction to the present. “You should have seen the expression on Father's face when I unwrapped it. And Mother... She can't stand the sight of it, and almost burst out crying. In fact, I bet that if she knew how to, she would make me send it back. But since mail addressed to Santa's Grotto doesn't actually go to the North Pole...

 “Never mind...” Hermione took a deep breath and smiled deliberately, in a bid to rally her former excitement. “I can't wait till next time that you come over to my place, so that I can show you, and we can play House for real. Mom wouldn't let me bring it here, but you’ll see it is the best pram ever; it's got..."

Neville cringed at the mention of playing House, but Hermione was too caught up in her genuine excitement of describing the pram's multiple features to notice.  Two against one –three when Colin joined them –they didn't often get roped into playing House, despite how often the subject came up, but when they did, Hermione's bossy side came out in full force, especially when she decided that they were doing the task assigned to them ‘all wrong.’

Ignoring her description of the multitude of attachments her new pram came with, Neville took a seat next to his brother and his mind drifted back to the time that she managed to convince them that it would be _fun_ to steal some of Heather's diapers and practice putting them on Annie. Hermione had claimed that they needed to practice for the next time they were left alone with Sirius, or as she referred to him ‘the world's most inept babysitter,’ since she wouldn't necessarily be around the next time.

Neville shuddered. He really, really didn't want a repeat of that experience, and pushing a pram seemed even more boring than changing diapers, especially if she made them _pretend_ in absence of the toy pram she’d been forced to leave at home, or worse steal Heather’s and risk Lily’s wrath…

He caught Harry's eyes and whispered, "Do something."

Harry frowned at his brother. He really didn’t want to get suckered into playing House, to make Hermione feel better about leaving her pram at home, but why was it _always_ his job to get them out of sticky situations?

Hermione had stopped talking and was looking at him expectantly.

"I'm really sorry that you didn't get to bring Annie or your toy pram over to play," the words tumbled from Harry’s mouth, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t get them to sound sincere. Fully aware of Hermione’s rising indignation at his unintentional put-down, he soldiered on –in for a Knut, in for a Galleon. “But Neville and I got some really cool presents too. Do you want to see? It might get your mind off things..."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but quickly shut it again, as her mind caught up with her mouth. She’d been so excited to share news of her gift that she was acting like an egocentric toddler. Here she was in Harry and Neville’s home, in their room, two days after Christmas and, instead of asking about them, she was going on and on about herself and getting mad at them. Surely they were as excited about their presents as she was about hers.

“So what did you get?” she asked.

“Sirius got us both training brooms!” exclaimed Neville, cutting off Harry’s attempt to reply.

Hermione frowned. That wasn’t the answer that she’d been expecting. “I thought you already had brooms.”

“No, those were baby brooms.” Neville shook his head, fetching his new broom from its place of honour at the foot of his bed, and holding it out to her for inspection, “Training brooms don’t fly as high or fast as grown-up brooms but they go way higher and faster than our baby brooms, high enough to finally be able to join in on back-yard Quidditch matches. Gran and Lily were _so_ mad...”

Harry nodded. “I was sure Mum was going to throw a fit, but Dad says that we’re the same age he was when he got his training broom, and he refused to let her make us give them back, no matter what she said. I can’t wait to try them out.”

Hermione reached out hesitantly. While she didn’t quite understand the boys’ obsession with broomsticks, their ‘baby’ broom had been kind of cool, and the novelty of seeing new magical items still hadn’t worn off in the months since she’d learned of their existence.  “Can I see?”

Neville nodded, handing it to her reverently, and after a moment she found herself asking, “Do you think I could try it?”

Neville snatched the broom back from her. “Sure,” he answered, his tone not quite matching his words, “but only after Harry and I have had a chance to break them in. They were _our_ presents, and Lily hasn’t even let us try them out yet ‘cause of all the snow we’ve been getting.”

Hermione nodded, she wasn’t _that_ eager. Besides, she couldn’t exactly go outside and try out a flying broomstick with her parents sitting in the kitchen with Lily and James. “Fair enough, so, what else did you get?” she asked.

“Remus got us these really cool Never-Non-Bouncing-Balls,” answered Harry, beating Neville to the punch. “We haven’t had the chance to try them out yet ‘cause Mum tried to confiscate them, and Neville had to hide them from her, but Remus says that once you start them bouncing, they never stop, until the charm runs out –which takes years –or someone manages to blow them up.“

Hermione frowned, “But isn’t that dangerous? What if they hit you in the eye, or break something, or get out into the Muggle world and threaten the Statue of Secrecy, or...”

“Don’t be such a party-pooper,” Neville cut her off. “I’m sure they’re charmed not be dangerous, or break anything or be seen by Muggles. We should totally try them out now, while Lily’s distracted with your parents...” He jumped down from the bed and began rummaging beneath it, searching for the unopened package that he’d hidden there.

“But you don’t actually know that for sure, do you?” pressed Hermione, unconvinced. Then, in a thoroughly transparent attempt to change the subject, asked, “What did you get from Father Christmas?”

“Father Christmas got us each a –” Harry started to answer.

But Neville, still riffling under his bed, cut him off. “That can wait,” he insisted, “Lily will only be distracted so long. Any minute now she’s going to come up those stairs and call us down for tea.”

Hermione snorted, shaking her head in confusion. “That makes absolutely no sense. And when she walks in here and finds us playing with those hazardous balls that she already confiscated once, then what? You said yourself that they won’t stop bouncing on their own. How are we supposed to hide a bouncing ball?”

“Then she’ll get mad,” Neville refused to be discouraged, a grin forming on his face as he pulled the charmed box out from its hiding place, “and she’ll probably blow them up or take them away again... But if you would just let us get on with it, we will have had our fun and it’ll have been worth it.”

“Oh! Of all the immature...” Hermione mumbled under her breath.  Arms crossed and chin raised she lifted one foot, and firmly brought it down, “No!”

“But...” Neville tried to insist.

Hermione held his gaze, refusing to back down.

Neville pasted a pout on for size and tried again, “But...

“No!” Hermione held her ground, “I have absolutely no interest in getting pelted with interminably bouncing balls, or in being reprimanded for engaging it such immature trouble-seeking behaviour. If you want to do so, so badly, you can do it some other time, when I’m not around to catch a share of the blame.”

Harry looked away, reluctant to meet her eyes, but Neville continued to stare her down, not the least bit contrite.

Still, neither boy contradicted her, so she continued, “Now I’m interested in hearing about your other gifts, unless they’re all as idiotic as those dratted balls... But if you don’t feel like sharing, I propose that we find something else to do.”

 _That_ made Neville frown; she hadn’t exactly mentioned playing House, but unless they fell into line... he could feel the unvoiced suggestion hanging over them. So rather than wait for her to say the words, he gave in and changed subject, “Of course we got other gifts. Those were just our favourites... Gran gave me a scratchy sweater that she says used to belong to my dad. She gave Harry a scratchy sweater too, but his is new.”

“And, Mum and Dad bought us each a Transformer Autobot and charmed them so that they transform by themselves, and fight and everything,” Harry cut in, before Neville could get too morose about his Gran’s choice of gifts.

But even the Autobots were a sore subject for Neville. “Gran didn’t like them very much,” he mumbled.

“But that’s only ‘cause she didn’t know what they are,” countered Harry, “Mum made her understand that we should have some Muggle toys, and Autobots are all the rage; all the cool boys at school are playing with them. And Mum says that Dad...”

Neville giggled at the memory. “Lily said that she brought James to the Muggle toy store to help her pick out our gifts, and he made a fool of himself ‘cause he thought the Transformers were magic, ‘cause he thought they transform like with Transfiguration, except they don’t, not really. So then James told her that they had to buy them, even though Lily didn’t want to. She said they weren’t really age-accropiate.”

“Age-appropriate,” Hermione corrected, then tried to change the subject again, Autobots were for _boys_.  “What about Father Christmas? What did he get you?”

“Pogo balls!” Harry exclaimed. Even though they were Muggle toys, the pogo balls were almost as cool as their new brooms and Never-Non-Bouncing-Balls –possibly cooler. They hadn’t tried out the latter two yet, so it was hard to compare... “They’re pretty cool, but Mum says we’re not to use them upstairs or we’ll bring the house down on ourselves, whatever that means... Want to go downstairs and try them out?”

Hermione nodded, finally something she didn’t mind doing... something that actually sounded fun...

Collecting the pogo balls from the messy toy chest in the corner of their room, Neville tossed one at his brother then gestured for Hermione to follow them out of the room.  

As they passed the kitchen where the adults were still talking, Hermione caught wisps of their conversation; they were talking about her gift from Father Christmas. Hermione paused at the door, straining to hear.  She heard mother say, “argued about it … believe him … no idea where it might have come from…” the rest of her words unintelligible.

Hermione leaned against the closed door to listen better but, only partially closed, the door swung open under her applied weight, and she found herself crashing to the floor.

In the resulting confusion, only James noticed Lily’s sly smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Robin4 for allowing me the use of Never-Non-Bouncing-Balls. Also, many thanks to my beta, Arnel, for sticking with me after all these years, and for the quick turnaround on this chapter.


	31. Chapter 31

"Oh good you're here!"

Hermione opened her front door, greeting Harry and Neville at with the same enthusiasm she'd expressed upon arriving at their place, a mere week earlier.

But this time, rather than spread as excitement and curiosity, her enthusiasm had the reverse effect, filling both boys with apprehension. When Hermione had called to invite them over, Harry had tried to argue her out of it, to entice her to come over to their place instead. He'd even offered her first go on his broom.

But the idea of flying didn't have quite the same effect on Hermione as it did on the boys. Yes, she definitely wanted to try flying –one day– but not today. Today, she wanted them to come over to her place; she couldn't wait to show them her new toy pram.

So here they were.

Lily had dropped them off, but instead of coming in, she was waiting in her warm car, at the end of the drive, for them to cross over the threshold.

She'd told them to give her a call when they wanted to go home, and the boys had shared a look, almost giving into the temptation of asking her to take them straight home, right there and then. But after a moment's hesitation, they'd mustered their courage, stepped out of the car and walked up the drive.

Now, hovering at the threshold, Neville nudged Harry through the door ahead of him, and turned back one last time, to wave at Lily, before stepping into the house himself. They could handle one game of House, couldn't they? It would hardly be the first, and it always made Hermione so happy when they gave in and played what she wanted to.

Still, even after handing over his coat, and stepping out of his boots, Neville found himself looking for ways to stall. Glancing about the Granger's immaculately kept entrance hall, he asked, "Where are your parents?"

Maybe Hermione's mother was making biscuits for a change and...

"Mother's in her office, as usual," Hermione answered, dashing Neville's hope for a distraction, "and Father had to go into the surgery for an emergency tooth extraction. Shall we go up to my room? Annie and I were waiting for you, to start our tea party."

Stifling a sigh, Neville nodded and followed meekly as Hermione led the two of them up the stairs.

As they passed her mother's office, with its half open door, he couldn't help pausing to peek through the crack. Despite the number of times he and Harry had visited, they'd never been inside, and usually the door was firmly closed.

He caught a glimpse of Hermione's mother on the phone, her back to the door. "Yes, end of July, that's right."

"Neville, are you coming?" Hermione called down from the top of the stairs.

Neville jumped back from the office door.

"Coming!" he answered, all thoughts once more on dreading the tea party that awaited him at the top of the stairs.

The scene he found wasn't quite what he'd expected.

Hermione had set her reading lamp on the ground near her bed, moved her bedside table to the middle of room, and set four sofa pillows on the floor around it. Annie sat on one of the pillows, and Harry on another. The table was set with four cups and saucers, and in the middle of the table sat a tea pot –a real one – and a plate of biscuits.

A shadow of a smile crept onto Neville's face, as he plopped onto one of the remaining cushions. Had Hermione's mother baked after all? Despite her aversion to all things sweet…

"The biscuits are left-over from a hostess gift that my parents received at our New Year's party. And Mother made us some camomile tea; she says we're too young for Earl Grey," Hermione explained, gracefully lowering herself onto the last pillow. "You should drink it before it gets cold. The cups here aren't charmed to keep things warm."

"Whoever made the biscuits did a really good job. They're almost as good as Mum's," said Harry, stuffing a second biscuit into his mouth and talking around it. "The tea's actually pretty good too. Do you think we can get Mum to make us some too, instead of plain milk, the next time the grown-ups have a tea party?"

Neville shrugged, "I didn't know we were having a real tea party, Hermione."

"Of course we're having real tea," Hermione giggled. "It's time for afternoon tea. Usually we have it downstairs, but Mother let me bring mine up to my room, since you were coming over. And she said we could have the biscuits too, even though they're sweeter than she likes, before they go to waste. We can play House with Annie and my new pram after we're done here."

Neville couldn't help it; he groaned.

"Aww, come on," Hermione entreated. "Don't be like that. It'll be fun. I'll be the mummy, and Annie will be the baby, and you can be the daddy, and Harry can be the family dog."

"Why do I have to be a dog!?" Harry objected jumping to his feet, cup still in hand, causing the last of his tea to slosh threateningly.

"Careful," Hermione reprimanded. "If we break something, or make a mess, this'll be the last time Mother lets us have a tea party in my room."

"Fine!" Harry drained the last of his tea, then sat back down as abruptly as he'd stood up, "but I'm still not going to be a dog."

"Okay, you don't have to be a dog. We'll think of something else," Hermione promised. She lifted the nearly-full tea-pot in an attempt at a peace-offering. "Here have some more tea. It always makes me feel better."

Harry sighed, but held out his cup; it _was_ pretty good tea... And he _was_ feeling better, more relaxed, than he had been before drinking the first cup...

He was halfway through his second cup of camomile tea, when Hermione set down her cup abruptly, and exclaimed, "I got it! You can be the nosy neighbour who makes a nuisance of herself and spies on me, and Neville, and the baby."

Harry took another sip of his tea, and nodded agreeably, his mind drifting to Mrs Taylor, who lived three houses down, and was really nosy, and annoying, always prattling on, and pinching cheeks, and ooh-ing, ahh-ing, and coo-ing. He could do nosy. Being the nosy neighbour was way better than being the family dog.

Still Harry did his best to drag the tea party on as long as possible, as did Neville, sipping at their tea as slowly as they could manage, and nibbling at the biscuits. Anything to put off the impending game of House…

But they could only put it off so long.

The moment teapot, and each of their cups, was completely drained, and the last morsel of biscuits polished off, Hermione stood abruptly. She waved away their offers to bring the dirty dishes down to the kitchen –her mother didn't trust them to carry the tea set down the stairs– switching straight into authoritative mode. "Neville, you and I will take Annie for a walk in her pram. Harry, you go out into the corridor and pretend to lay in wake on the street."

Harry nodded, a half-baked plan to emulate Mrs Taylor, already forming in his mind.

Not waiting to watch Hermione place Annie in the pram, he headed out into the corridor, looking for the perfect place to stand in wake. Finally, he chose an obtrusive spot near the end of the corridor, smack in front of Mr and Mrs Granger's room, where Hermione and Neville would have a hard time avoiding him.

He didn't have to wait particularly long. A short minute later, Harry caught sight of Hermione's toy pram –which to his unpractised eyes looked very much like the pram Mum used for Heather, except slightly smaller –poking out of the door to Hermione's room, followed closely by Hermione pushing the handle, and Neville strolling quietly beside her.

When he judged that they were close enough, he called out, "Oh hello, Mrs Granger, Mr Granger!"

Then, without waiting for them to acknowledge him, Harry walked up to the carriage and leaned over it, not bothering to ask for permission. "Is that your new baby? She's so cute. Let me pinch her cheeks,"

He reached down, about to pinch Annie's cheeks, when Hermione forcefully swatted his hand away, not letting him touch the doll. "Don't you dare touch my baby! Your hands are filthy!"

Puzzled, Harry looked down. Sure enough, there were brown smears, from one of the chocolate biscuits that he'd eaten, on both his hands.

But, like Mrs Taylor, he refused to be deterred. Putting on his best snooty voice he answered, "Oh dear, how ever did that happen? No matter..."

Hands clasped behind his back, he leaned over the pram once more, "Oooh, aren't you a perfect little angel, coochie–"

"Leave my daughter alone!" Neville grabbed Harry by the shoulder, pulling him firmly away from the pram.

Harry jerked free, returning to his former position.

And so it continued...

Hours later, when he and Neville went over their day, they had to admit that they'd had fun. Had they really been worrying over nothing? Playing House wasn't so bad, when they relaxed enough to have fun and let their imaginations run with it...

In fact, it was a lot like playing Aurors and Dark Wizards, but without the violent bits, or rather, without _most_ of the violent bits... He and Neville _had_ almost come to blows at one point, in keeping with their respective characters.

Of course, it helped that Hermione had been a lot less bossy than she usually was when they played House... Or was it that she was less bossy because they'd been co-operating better instead of fighting her every step of the way…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my mother for her unwitting contribution to this chapter through years of serving my siblings and I camomile tea (or "tea for children," as she referred to it). I'd also like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story. In absence of reviews, they were the only proof I had that someone was reading. Lastly, but definitely not least, I would like to thank my beta Arnel for her help on this chapter.


	32. Chapter 32

“Race you to the tree!” cried Harry, shooting off like an arrow in the direction of the aforementioned tree.

It was a beautiful, sunny, mid-January Saturday, and Harry and Neville had finally convinced Hermione to try out one of their brooms.

Unfortunately, while she’d have been content to hover a few feet above the ground, and proceed at a leisurely pace, the boys were having none of that. They’d both had plenty of practice time since Christmas, knew just what their new brooms were capable of, and were intent on getting her to put the broom through its paces…

And, Hermione’s pride wouldn’t let her just throw the race.

So, despite her apprehension, she found herself speeding after Harry.

 Still, her fear of crashing held her back just enough that she couldn’t bring herself to match Harry’s speed –the broom’s maximum– and he reached the tree with a significant lead, turned abruptly and brought himself to a neat stop just to the right of it.

Behind him, and despite her slightly lesser speed, Hermione struggled to pull to a stop, panicking as the thought crossed her mind that she was barrelling toward the tree with enough force to knock herself out.

But the training broom was designed with preventing such accidents in mind.

Sensing a possible collision with a large inanimate object, its safety charms engaged, bringing her to a magically cushioned stop several feet short of the tree.

Shaking with leftover adrenaline, Hermione slowly descended, her knees nearly buckling as she touched down and dismounted.

“I thought you said that these brooms didn’t go very fast!” she complained.

“Nope, we never said that,” laughed Harry, still hovering a few feet above her. “What we said was that they didn’t go as fast, or high as regular brooms, and that they had all kinds of safety charms built in that regular brooms don’t.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Regular brooms go faster than that!?” she shrieked.

“Of course they do!” answered Neville, slightly breathless from sprinting across the garden to join them. “You should come over sometime when James and his friends play a game of pickup Quidditch –and those are just regular brooms. We’ve never been to a real Quidditch game or broom race, but James says professional brooms are even faster, and they don’t have all the safety charms these ones do.”

“Why not?” Hermione frowned, shaking her head in disbelief; that didn’t make any sense. “Adults must fall off their brooms too, sometimes. Why wouldn’t they put safety charms on their own brooms?”

“I don’t know!” Neville exclaimed, his voice dripping with irritation at the unanswerable question. He was just a kid. How was he supposed to know?

Hermione turned a hopeful gaze up at Harry, who was still hovering a few feet above her.

“Don’t look at me,” he answered. “I don’t know either, but I’m sure there’s a good reason. Maybe there’s too many other spells on the broom so that they go faster, and higher, and react better, and there’s no room left for the safety charms...?”

Hermione stared back at him, unimpressed. “One would think that safety would be a priority over those other things.

“Aww come on! Does it really matter!?” Harry threw up his hands in frustration, and Hermione allowed herself to be distracted from the subject of safety charms, marvelling at his ability to keep his balance, hands-free. “These brooms have so many safety charms on them that even fraidy-cat Mum is willing to let us fly unsupervised... So let’s fly!”

Shaking her head, Hermione handed Neville’s broom back to its rightful owner.  “No, that’s all right. You two can fly; I think I rather just watch.”

“You sure?” asked Neville, taking it back hesitantly. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I think I prefer my two feet firmly on the ground. You have fun, and try not to crash.”

Neville gave her a lopsided grin. “Thanks, but there’s really nothing to worry about.”

Ten minutes later, Hermione still wasn’t convinced. There was most definitely something to worry about.

She’d watched, heart in her throat, as the boys showed off increasingly difficult dives, climbs, and sharp turns. Then they’d switched to racing each other –at breakneck speeds–from one end of the garden to the other.

How could Lily allow them to do such things, unsupervised? Did she even know? 

Harry pulled himself to an abrupt stop. “I have an idea!”

 “Oh?” asked Neville, his tone hopeful. He was bored with practicing stunts, and even racing was losing its thrill.

“We should have a snowball fight!” suggested Harry. “Hermione, you can make the balls for us and put them in a pile. Then, me and Neville can dive down to grab them, and throw them at each other.”

Hermione frowned; flying was hazardous enough, now they wanted to add snowballs to the mix…?

“That sounds really dangerous.”  

 “Nah, it’ll be fun!” Neville sided with Harry, making it two against one. “Come on!”

“But I really don’t think –”

“Aww, come on! Don’t be such a party-pooper,” Neville cut her off.

“Fine!” answered Hermione, but her crossed arms, and tone left no doubt to her disapproval, nor did the boot she stomped into the snow to punctuate her statement, “But if you crash, I am not to blame.”

“Now you’re being a worry-wort,” taunted Neville, hovering an arm’s length above her head.

Harry, taking a more gentle approach, pulled up beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry Hermione, we’ll be careful. Neither of us is going to crash,” he promised.

Partially reassured by Harry’s solemn-sounding promise, Hermione allowed her arms to drop to her side, relaxing her tense shoulders.

Encouraged by her change in demeanor, Harry asked, “Can you please make us some snowballs?”

It was the ‘please’ that did it.

Hermione nodded and, albeit reluctantly, bent down to start making snowballs, as the boys hovered impatiently on either side of her.

Finally, when she’d made about a dozen, as if by unspoken agreement, they dived almost simultaneously towards the growing pile, grabbed one each and darted off in opposite directions. Hermione, concentrating instead on the task at hand, paid them no mind, until–

_Thwok!_

“Hey!” Hermione jumped to her feet, as Harry’s first snowball missed its target, hitting her instead. She threw down the snowball she’d been compacting, “I’m not going to make you snowballs, if you’re planning to throw them at me.”

“Sorry,” said Harry, raising both his hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“Humph!” Hermione muttered, glaring as she reached up to ineffectually wipe at the encrusted snow in her frizzy hair. But, short of magic or a blow-dryer, there was no separating the sticky snow from her wild curls, and she was forced to concede defeat.

Shooting Harry one more glare, she bent down to grab another handful of snow. Resisting the temptation to throw it at Harry, she returned to the task of making snowballs for the boys.

They were cautious after that initial misstep, taking their time to aim between ducking their opponent’s ammunition, and throwing their own. But they were quickly gaining confidence and assurance, speeding up to the point that Hermione could hardly produce snowballs fast enough to keep up with demand.

Soon she was caught up in the thrill, of trying to outpace the boys, of making snowballs faster than they could throw them. Still, mindful of the possibility of stray projectiles, she kept track of the aerial acrobatics occurring above her head.

Harry was in the corner of the garden nearest the elm they’d used as base earlier, snowball in one hand and gearing up for his next throw. Neville was just above her, a few yards from his opponent, having just picked up his latest payload.

Neville threw first.

Harry swerved right –straight at the elm.

The training broom’s safety charms engaged.

The broom tried to swerve left, buckling under the force of the two conflicting commands.

Hermione watched horror-struck, her task forgotten, as Harry overbalanced, losing his remaining grip on his broom, tumbling towards the ground, as if in slow motion.

Time froze.

_Thump._

Time started up again.

Hermione sprinted towards the house, her legs seeming to act without conscious control.

“Lily, Lily, come quick! Harry fell off his broom and hit his head!”

But Lily, alerted by the wards on the back garden, was already in motion, rushing out the back door in her slippers.

That was the last time either boy was allowed unsupervised flying time –training broom or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize Neville wasn't much of a flyer in canon, but his upbringing in this story has resulted in a far more confident young wizard. I'd like to think that that makes all the difference.
> 
> A special thanks like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story. In absence of reviews, they were the only proof I had that someone was reading. Lastly, but definitely not least, I would like to thank my beta Arnel for her help on this chapter.


	33. Chapter 33

"I've never seen that sort before! What kind of cereal is that?"

_Drat!_

Harry looked up from unpacking his book bag, to find Matt Wilson staring curiously at the cereal box he'd brought in for Crafts. Dad had been the one to charm it to make the characters stop moving, but it hadn't occurred to him –or to Dad, for that matter –that Muggles might not eat _Puffskein Puffs._

He should have asked Mum. She would have known that even without the moving images, his box would draw unwanted attention. But he and Neville had almost forgotten that they needed cereal boxes to decorate for their valentines, and Mum had been busy with Heather when he'd remembered…

"My cousins sent them from America," Harry blurted out the only non-magical explanation for having unusual cereal, that he could think of. Then, just in case, by some unfortunate coincidence Matt knew people in America and tried to track some down, he added, "They're not very good."

"Weird," Matt muttered, but he ambled away with no further questions.

Harry let out a sigh of relief and scrambled over to Neville's desk to match cover stories. His brother's box of _Bowtruckle Crunch_ was probably just as unusual, and Matt was unlikely to be the only curious classmate they'd have to face today...

A short whispered conversation later, Harry slid back into his own seat –only to spot Claire Johnson, two seats down, staring intently at his box with the same look of curious confusion that Matt had been sporting earlier.

Harry sighed and slouched down into his seat, half-wishing the floor would swallow him up; he couldn't wait for his box to be covered up with coloured paper, and no longer identifiable as being different. But Crafts wouldn't be till after lunch...

* * *

"Interesting choice of cereal boxes," Hermione commented, eyes twinkling with mirth as she took a seat between the two boys at lunch.

Neville groaned. "Not you too!"

"Sorry, couldn't help myself." Hermione giggled. Then, in an undertone, she added, "I would have brought some extra boxes for your valentines, if you'd asked me to."

"Thanks." Harry gave her a lopsided smile. "But we didn't realize until it was too late that boxes we brought would stand out, or we could have asked Dad to change the pictures on the boxes too, and not just stop them from moving."

"Don't you own any normal cereal?" she asked.

"I don't think so," answered Neville. "Those are the sorts we usually buy. Lily says that they have much less sugar than Muggle children's cereal, but taste just as good."

"Makes sense," Hermione nodded, but her smile slipped slightly, "Mother and Father won't let me have children's cereal, because of all the sugar, just plain Corn Flakes or Cheerios."

"I can't wait to decorate my box this afternoon!" Neville blurted out with more enthusiasm than the comment necessitated, "So! Are you looking forwards to Valentine's Day, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned. "I don't know. What if no one gives me a Valentine? I still don't have many friends; definitely not as many as you do..."

"You'll get at least two Valentines, one from me, and one from Harry," Neville was quick to promise. "Right, Harry?"

"Nuh-huh."

Harry shook his head, smirking at the confused frown on Neville's face, and the disappointment on Hermione's.

"Four; Neville and I will each give you two, won't we, Neville?"

Neville broke into a smile, nodding his agreement, "Yes, yes, of course we will. Hand-made ones, not the ones that come in a box like Lily bought for us to give to the rest of the class…"

* * *

The night before Valentine's Day, Neville sat alone at the kitchen table, Harry's pile of finished and abandoned valentines to his left, and his own pile of completed valentines to his right.

In his hands, he held a final unfinished valentine: a large red heart, with a smaller pink heart in the center, hand-cut and trimmed with a piece of sparkly white lace that Lily had let him take from her sewing box.

He'd been working on it forever, but the most important part was still missing.

He wanted the message on this one to be extra special, to let Hermione know what a great friend she was, and that he cared about her a lot, and that even though he sometimes said mean things to her, he didn't mean them, not really… But, no matter how deeply he wracked his brain, he couldn't come up with the right words…

Neville turned to face the kitchen counter where Lily was busy making heart-shaped biscuits for the boys to bring to their class' Valentine's Day party.

"Lily?" he asked, finally giving up on being able to write the message himself. "Can you help me with my valentine for Hermione? She's worried that she won't get any, and I want to make mine extra special for her..."

Lily looked up from her baking and smiled, "That's a really kind gesture, Neville."

She wiped her hands on a dish towel, and came over to sit beside him. "Let's see what you've got so far..." Taking care not to upset the precariously piled completed valentines, she reached for the one he held gingerly in both hands.

"This looks pretty special, already," she remarked, admiring the daisy –painstakingly constructed from eight hand-cut white petals, and a little yellow circle– that he'd glued to the bottom of the heart. "It shows that you put a lot of work into it. I'm sure Hermione will love it."

"But it's not finished," Neville groaned, banging his forehead on the table in frustration. "I don't know what to write."

"What do you want to write?" Lily prompted. She could think of plenty of kind words to encourage the precocious six-year-old that had wormed her way into her heart, but this was Neville's initiative. The words had to come from him.

"Something special..." Neville explained, "Hermione is so very clever, and special, and kind, and different but in a good way. I don't know anyone else like her, and I want her to know that even though sometimes I call her a know-it-all, or bossy, or a party-pooper, she's still my friend. But I don't know any good words to say that pretty..."

Lily smiled indulgently. Neville had a way of saying what was on his mind, in a way all his own, and although he was rarely diplomatic, he wasn't mean-spirited, "I think you said that very nicely, Neville."

Neville shook his head, frowning. "But Hermione is clever, Lily. I need to say it clever."

Lily couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. "I think you meant cleverly, Neville. But I understand what you mean. How about I teach you some new big words that you can use? Would you like that?"

Neville's discouraged frown transformed instantly into a brilliant smile. "That would be perfect! And can you help me get all the spelling right?"

Lily smiled. "Of course I can. Now let's see… what about 'amazing' as in causing great wonder or surprise?"

Neville shook his head emphatically, "No, that one's not clever enough; I already knew that one..."

"Hmmm..." Lily murmured thoughtfully. "What about 'outstanding'? It means easy to notice because of being very good."

Neville smiled, and pushed a pink scrap piece of construction paper her way, "I like that one; write it down, please."

Lily scribbled the word down quickly and pushed the paper back his way.

But he shook his head instead of taking it. "It's still not enough, Lily... another word, please."

Lily sighed. It wasn't easy coming up with words, off the top of her head, like this...

She considered refusing, but Neville was staring at her expectantly, and she couldn't turn him down, not for something like this. So, instead of voicing her exasperation, she found herself asking, "Do you want something else that means the same thing? Or is there something else that you want to try to say?"

"Hmm..." Neville thought hard before answering, "Something similar but that also means that she's different in a good way, and that I like that about her."

Lily took a few minutes to come up with another suggestion, silently wishing for a thesaurus –or at the very least a dictionary– but her wand was out of reach at the moment, and Neville was squirming impatiently in his seat. He probably wouldn't take it well if she stood up now, to retrieve one from the study.

Just as Neville was about to give up, Lily spoke up again, "What about 'remarkable'? As in, worthy of being noticed, for being uncommon or extraordinary..."

"What does extrodinary mean?" asked Neville. He was almost certain that he'd heard the word before, but he wasn't sure, and he didn't want Hermione to get the wrong message.

"'Extraordinary,'" Lily corrected. "It means very different from what is normal, or ordinary, in a good way."

"That's perfect!" exclaimed Neville, his previous grin making a reappearance, "Can you write those both down please?" He pushed the piece of pink paper back her way.

Lily jotted the two words down, and handed it back, letting let out a sigh of relief, when he took it without question. She would never admit it to the five-year-old, but he'd really scraped the bottom of her vocabulary-well with his highly specific, and yet thoroughly vague request.

"Thanks, Lily!"

Neville smiled up at her with that crooked grin, the one that made it all worth it, and she found herself smiling back, as she returned to her baking.

Half an hour later, the smell of baking biscuits filled the kitchen, and Neville smiled as he showed off his finished product.

In his coloured pen, and his best print he'd written:

 

> _Dear Hermione,_
> 
> _Thank you for being such an outstanding remarkable extraordinary friend!_
> 
> _Neville_
> 
> _(PS: I asked Lily to teach me some new words, because you're so clever, and I didn't know any words good enough to describe you proper.)_

Hermione was going to love it –he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this little bit of Valentine fluff. 
> 
> A special thanks like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story. In absence of reviews, they were the only proof I had that someone was reading. Lastly, but definitely not least, I would like to thank my beta Arnel for her help on this chapter.


	34. Chapter 34

"Is there such a thing as the Easter Bunny?" asked Hermione, sitting up abruptly.

It was an unseasonably warm and sunny Saturday in late March, and she, Harry and Neville had been laying in the Potter's back yard, watching clouds, since her parents had dropped her off, just after lunch.

Neville pushed himself up with his elbows, a look of puzzlement on his face. "What's the Easter Bunny?"

"I haven't believed in the Easter Bunny since I was little," Hermione answered, "But I thought that maybe since you were right about Father Christmas being real, and probably about him being a wizard as well... I just thought that I'd ask, just in case..."

Frustrated at her non-answer, Harry sat up.

" _But what's an Easter Bunny_?" he repeated the question, annoyance seeping into his voice. "A bunny you get for Easter? We usually just get chocolate eggs. Mum and Dad hide them all over the house and yard for us to find."

"No, no." Hermione shook her head emphatically. Then, because the boys were still staring at her with blank expressions, she explained, "When I was little, my parents used to tell me that there was a talking, human-sized, bunny rabbit that delivered a basket full of Easter goodies to deserving little boys and girls. I left out carrots and lettuce for him. He didn't leave any Easter chocolate, but there was an Easter themed picture book, and plastic Easter eggs filled with coins, and sugar-free sweets, and a glass rabbit figurine. But–"

"You've never had Easter chocolate!" exclaimed Harry.

Hermione frowned, but didn't reply to his outburst. Why was he so surprised? Harry knew that her parents almost never let her have sweets, if they knew about it – it was why she'd kept her meagre Valentine sweet stash hidden in her desk at school, and rationed her supplies until she'd finally run out last week.

"But then," she continued where she'd left off, "last year, there was no Easter Bunny at all, and we didn't do anything special, except eat a fancy dinner..."

"But...but..." stuttered Neville, struggling to put his outrage into words.

"Don't worry, we'll share Easter chocolate with you," Harry offered, "Won't we, Neville?"

"Why don't we just ask Lily to buy some for her too?" asked Neville; it wasn't that he didn't want to share, but…

"'Cause Mum will just tell Hermione's parents, and that won't solve anything, since they don't like sweets _at all..._ " retorted Harry.

"Oh..." muttered Neville. He hadn't considered that possibility. "Then, of course you can share my chocolate too, Hermione."

"Anyways, to answer your question..." said Harry, bringing the conversation back to its starting point. "I've never heard of a magical bunny rabbit. The only magical creature, that I can think of, that's as soft as the bunny rabbits we petted at the petting zoo is a Puffskein, but they don't look anything like bunny rabbits. They're round like balls, and they aren't big like people at all, and I don't think they talk. 'Course there's a lot of creatures that I don't know about, so maybe we should ask Mum..."

"No, no need to ask your Mum." answered Hermione, quashing her disappointment, as she lowered herself back down onto the grass, "If there was such a thing as the Easter Bunny, I'm sure she would have told you about it."

"If you're sure..." _No answer._

Harry lay back down, only to pop back up, less than a minute later.

"Now you have me thinking about Easter! All the clouds look like bunny rabbits!" He turned to Neville, "Do you think Mum would let us decorate Easter eggs today? Even though Easter is still two weeks away?"

"I don't know." Neville sat up and shrugged, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. "Let's ask! And maybe she'll bake us some Easter biscuits too..."

"Come on, Hermione," urged Harry

Hermione opened her mouth to object. Painting Easter eggs was _boring_.

She remembered the last time she'd decorated Easter eggs with her parents: drawing on the eggs with plain wax crayons, being extra careful not to crack them –and still winding up with sticky egg-white and yolk dripping all over her hands, half the time. Then, her parents had dipped the eggs into ink, and she'd watched as they came out of the ink stained a dull pale version of the colour ink used, except where the wax clung to the shells.

But before she could say so, Hermione found herself being dragged to her feet, by a boy on either side...

* * *

Painting Easter eggs with Lily was nothing like Hermione remembered doing with her parents.

To start with, the set of bright sparkling crayons Lily pulled out to use on the eggs was anything but plain. She'd also charmed the eggs to be unbreakable, so that there were no sticky messes, no danger in pressing hard enough for the crayons to really colour. And the dye…Hermione had never seen anything like the dye that Lily used on the eggs. They came out a sparkling kaleidoscope of bright colour, not pale or faded, at all.

Her last one was her favourite.

Hermione held it gingerly as she pulled it out of the dye. _It was perfect._

She'd finally figured out the best way to draw with the magical crayons –not too hard or soft, nor too thick or too thin –and having experimented with all the colours already, she'd used all her favourites.

Across the kitchen table, covered in a mess of spilled dye and scattered crayons, Neville and Harry nudged each other and giggled, at her reaction. But, Hermione ignored them.

"It's so beautiful!" She turned to Lily, who stood at the counter, icing egg-shaped sugar biscuits. "Do you think...?" she hesitated, bracing herself. "Do you think I can take one home? Or are they too obviously magical?"

"The egg will rot, if you leave it out..." answered Lily, unsure what to make of the request. They were just Easter eggs… A little fancier than what she'd made growing up in a Muggle house-hold, but still just Easter eggs... Surely, she'd have plenty more at home, by the time Easter rolled around...

"I know," answered Hermione, swallowing her disappointment. She did know. It was silly, just a childish flitting fancy. She shouldn't have asked.

Watching a frown form on the young girl's face, Lily reconsidered her previous assessment. Hermione was usually so mature for her age, so precocious, that it was easy to forget that she was only six. Not so right now.

Right now, she looked her true age, as she so rarely did, like a disappointed little girl, trying her best to hide it. Lily felt a stirring at her heat-strings. She shouldn't be so affected, but…

What could it hurt, to let her bring an egg home?

Before she could rethink her decision, Lily found herself saying, "I suppose I could drain the egg out of the shell, so that it will last longer, and cast a glamour to dull the colours to Muggle eyes, but I'll have to take the unbreakable charm off it, so you'll have to promise to be careful with it."

"I promise!"

One look at the renewed smile on the young witch's face was enough to make the slight bending of the Statue of Secrecy worth it…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to my wonderful beta, Arnel, who went the extra mile to help me iron as many Americanisms as possible, out of this chapter. I'd also like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story. In absence of reviews, they were the only proof I had that someone was reading.


	35. Chapter 35

"I'm bored!" complained Neville.

It was a Saturday, which was usually a good day, what with the lack of school. But it had been raining for weeks, and they'd exhausted all their rainy-day activities, including board games that he'd usually refuse to touch, and several rounds of House with all the bells and whistles.

Had they been at home, he and Harry would probably have managed to convince Lily to let them play out in the rain by now, but they weren't at home. Lily and James had shipped Heather off to Remus, and Neville and Harry off to the Grangers, so that the two of them could have 'a couple's day.' And, Neville seriously doubted he'd have as much success convincing Hermione's mum to let them trail mud into her immaculate house.

Harry threw himself backward onto Hermione's bed. "Me, too! I wish it would stop raining so that we could go out."

"That's it!" Hermione jumped up from her place, cross-legged on the floor, so quickly that she dropped Annie, whose hair she'd been brushing.

Neville started, accidently hitting his head on the bookshelf behind him, in his surprise. "You actually think your mum will let us play outside in the rain!?" he asked. He hadn't bothered suggesting it, because he hadn't considered it even a remote possibility.

"No, of course not." Hermione frowned. Why did the boys have to be so simple sometimes? "We'll get all wet, and you didn't bring a change of clothes, and the floor will get all muddy... What I meant is that it's been raining so long that I'm sure that we could convince Mother or Father to take us out somewhere."

"Where?" asked Harry, confused, "It's raining everywhere in town..."

Hermione giggled. He was joking right? She didn't seriously have to spell it out for them, did she? She waited patiently for either boy to laugh back, admit the question was a joke. But they didn't. Harry just continued to look at her with that perplexed look on his face, and the expression on Neville's face wasn't much better.

"Everywhere outside, yes," she explained, finally, "but not inside. We can ask her to take us somewhere indoors."

"But indoors is boring," complained Neville, thumping his head against the bookshelf in frustration, "We've been playing indoors for ages."

Hermione was not so easily discouraged. She had an idea and she wasn't going to back down until the boys agreed with her –or suggested something better, which wasn't likely. "We can go to the library. It's my favourite building in the whole town, and I haven't been in ages."

Neville's jaw dropped, and though he opened and closed it a few times, no sound emerged.

Harry frowned at her, incredulously. "You want to spend a Saturday at the library?"

"Yes, why not?" answered Hermione, struggling not to let the boys' reactions stifle her enthusiasm, "I'm sure Mother will bring us, if we ask. She's usually willing to take a break from paperwork, in exchange for a visit to the library. If not, we can probably convince Father. He's been working really hard these last few months, and a good book would be the perfect distraction. In fact, let's ask Father first."

Neither boy moved from their position.

"Aww come on..." she repeated, tugging on each of their hands in turn, but they were both dead-weight –worse than dead-weight. "You know, they even have picture books, and I bet we can convince Father to read to you. He has the best reading voice, even better than Mother."

"Fine!" Harry pushed himself up, not bothering to smooth the mark he'd left behind on Hermione's bed covers.

Sensing the battle lost, but still unhappy with the prospect, Neville reluctantly climbed to his feet; he supposed having a new story read to him was no worse than sitting around Hermione's room doing nothing. He'd just have to be sure to pick a really good one.

It felt strange following Hermione into her father's office, after having been reminded during more than one game of hide-and-seek that to do so was forbidden. It didn't help that, in all the time they'd known Hermione, they'd seen even less of the man than the little they'd seen of her mother. Mrs Granger, at least, cooked for them sometimes, when they were over all day...

To distract himself from his discomfort, Neville allowed his eyes to wander, while Hermione explained why they'd come in. Mr Granger's office was a lot messier than the one glimpse that Neville had seen of Mrs Granger's office. His desk was piled with undecipherable papers, and at least a couple of maps...

 _Are the Grangers planning a trip for their summer holidays?_ Neville wondered. Hermione hadn't mentioned anything...

"So you see, Father," Hermione concluded, "we've already exhausted all other options, and we were hoping you would agree to accompany us to the library."

Neville turned a hopeful gaze towards Hermione's father. Would the severe-looking man agree to bring them to the library, or anywhere else for that matter? At this point, Neville would be content with a visit to the grocer's, if it meant leaving the house... Or were they back to square one, staring at the four walls of Hermione's room closing in on them?

He sighed in relief, as Mr Granger's severe expression melted into a smile, "That sounds like an excellent idea, children. I've been meaning to get my hands on Robin Cook's latest novel..."

* * *

By the time they pulled to a stop in the library's car park, Neville's relief at leaving the house had worn off. All through their drive, images of libraries he'd seen on the telly had played in his mind, images of uninviting high ceilinged rooms with row upon row of bookshelves as far as the eye could see… Was going to the library really better than hanging out in Hermione's room?

Try as he might, he couldn't match Hermione's enthusiasm for the outing, and if Harry's expression was anything to go by, neither could his brother.

By the time Neville and Harry pulled themselves out of the car, Hermione, who had jumped out the moment the car pulled to a stop, stood at the top of the stairs of the short squat building, arms crossed and feet shuffling impatiently from side to side.

Mr Granger pulled open the building's heavy front door and, the minute the gap was sufficient for her to squeeze through, Hermione darted off.

Neville barely noticed. He was too surprised by the sight in front of him. Where were the overly bright fluorescent lights? The high ceilings and shelves? The creepy librarian? The town library was warm and cozy, with comfy seats, almost identical to their schoolhouse library–only bigger.

If he noticed the sudden change in Neville's demeanour, Mr Granger didn't comment. He didn't even seem concerned that they'd lost Hermione the minute they'd crossed the threshold. Instead, he placed a hand on each boy's shoulder and gave them each a little shove forward. "The children's section is right over there. Why don't you boys go pick something out while I go find that novel I was looking for? I'll be over in a few minutes."

"What about Hermione?" asked Harry.

Mr Granger laughed, "She'll turn up eventually; usually about ten minutes after they announce closing time."

Harry couldn't help it, Mr Granger's laugh, so much like his own father's, was infectious; he laughed too. Even Neville was grinning. If the last few months had taught them something about Hermione, it was that there were not many forces in the universe capable of separating her from a book.

Mr Granger gave them a final gentle shove, and they stumbled towards the inviting shelves of picture books. There were so many to choose from –far more than they had at home, and at least twice as many as they had at school. By the time Mr Granger returned, Harry and Neville had picked out what they both considered the perfect book…

Hermione was right about Mr Granger's reading voice, too. Maybe he wasn't so scary, after all... And maybe –just maybe –the library wasn't such a bad place to spend a rainy Saturday …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta, Arnel, for the incredibly quick turnaround on this chapter. I'd also like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story. In absence of reviews, they were the only proof I had that someone was reading.


	36. Chapter 36

"What's wrong Hermione?" asked Harry.

It had been several minutes since Hermione had dragged Harry and Neville to the back corner of their classroom, away from their class' end-of-year party, with tears in her eyes. Now, the tears were flowing freely, with no sign of slowing, but she had yet to offer a word of explanation.

Neville draped an arm around her heaving shoulders "Yeah, what did you want to tell us?" he asked, "You know that you can tell us anything."

"My pa-parents –"she began, but that was as far as she got, before erupting into fresh sobs.

Harry added his arm on top of Neville's. "Whatever is wrong, we'll get through it."

Hermione's sobs got worse, instead of better. "No, we c-can't..."

Above her head, Harry and Neville shared a look. Should they go get the teacher? Considering how long and loud Hermione had been crying, it was actually surprising that she hadn't come over yet.

Finally, just as Harry was about to give up and go get Miss Karen, Hermione's sobs slowed enough for her to attempt speech. She shrugged Neville and Harry's arms off her shoulders.

"My pa-parents," she began, voice shaking.

She took a deep breath, and tried again, "My parents say that we have to move."

Neville took a step back as several pieces of a puzzle, brewing in his subconscious, clicked into place: Mrs Granger's phone-call, the maps on Mr Granger's desk, the way both Hermione's parents had been so busy all year...

"You're moving!?" exclaimed Harry. "Why!?"

Hermione shook her head in frustration. It just wasn't fair. She didn't want to move. But the confused indignation in Harry's voice helped to ground her, to calm her tears. Her parents might be uprooting her entire life, for their own benefit, and with no thought for her happiness, but at least –for now– she wasn't in this alone.

Taking a deep breath to clear the last of the sobs from her voice, she managed to answer their questions, without her voice breaking, "They want to set up their own practice in the city, so we're moving."

"They want to go to the city to practice?" asked Harry, straight-out confusion replacing his indignation, "What do they need to practice, anyway? Football? Rugby?"

"And why can't they practice here?" asked Neville.

Hermione couldn't help it; she burst out laughing, her tears temporarily forgotten. "No, silly-willies, they don't want to practice something. They want to _open up a practice._ "

The boys continued to stare at her with perplexed looks on their faces.

"They want to open up a dentist's surgery in the city," she clarified.

"Oh!" exclaimed Harry, with a flash of understanding. "We go to the dentist here, though. Why can't they work here?"

"I don't know!" Hermione stomped her foot. "It's not fair! I told them I'd hate them forever if they forced me to move, but they said we're moving, and 'it's not up for _negotiation,_ ' and I _have_ to go…"

"Ne-goat-sation?" asked Harry.

Hermione giggled, his mispronunciation of the word distracting her from the tears that were threatening to erupt once more. "Negotiation," she corrected, "It means no arguing. Honestly, don't the two of you ever read the dictionary?"

"Ummm…" Harry hesitated. She was joking, right?

"No," Neville answered for them both. "Please, please don't tell me that you actually read the dictionary..."

Hermione blushed. "Ummm...Sometimes..." she admitted, not bothering to try explaining the thrill of discovering so many new words, all in one place. There were some things that the boys would never understand, no matter how much she explained.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment after that, none of the three willing to bring the conversation back to the huge elephant that Hermione had let into the room.

Finally, Harry bit the bullet and asked, "So... when are you leaving?"

"Next week," answered Hermione, eyes glistening, as she fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. "It only just became official, yesterday. My parents are hiring a company to pack up all our belongings, after we leave, and move them all to our new place near the city."

"You're moving without your stuff!? Without Annie!?" asked Neville, more than a little outraged on her behalf. It was bad enough that Hermione's parents were dragging her away from him and Harry –her best friends –but they were making her leave her stuff behind too? That was beyond unfair!

"No, no," Hermione shook her head. Touched by his outburst, a half-smile formed at the corner of her mouth. "We're packing a few suitcases and boxes with things we'll need right away, and the moving company will be bringing the rest later. But..."

She trailed off as she noticed Miss Karen approaching, three thin packages tucked under her arm.

"I know the three of you probably have a lot to talk about." Miss Karen halted several paces from the huddled group of friends, diplomatically refraining from mentioning Hermione's puffy eyes or the tear streaks on her cheeks. "So, I thought I'd bring your end-of-year gifts over here, instead of forcing you to move, in case you're not feeling up for joining the group..."

"Gifts!?" Harry seized at the distraction, eying the packages.

"Yes, I like to get a little something for each of my students, at the end of the school year, only..." She smiled conspiratorially. "You mustn't tell my next batch of students. It's a secret."

Harry and Neville giggled, and even Hermione's lips upturned into a half-smile.

"What is it?" asked Neville.

Instead of answering, Miss Karen handed them each of them one of the brightly coloured packages, and said, "Go on, open them. See for yourself."

Neville and Harry tore at the wrapping with no further prompting, but Hermione hesitated, even as Harry and Neville both pulled brand new picture books from the remains of their wrapping paper. It wasn't that she didn't want the gift, but it didn't seem right, getting a gift right now. She was feeling sad, and a part of her –a really small part –wasn't ready to get cheered up.

"Go on," Miss Karen prompted, smiling encouragingly, "Open it. I know you can't resist a new book..."

Gingerly, Hermione pulled at the edges of the tape holding the paper together. If there really was a book inside, she didn't want to risk ripping any of the pages. She gently unfolded the paper, revealing a brand new picture book of her own, with two boys swinging on the front cover, and the title 'We Are Best Friends.'

Hermione almost burst into tears, at the reminder that she'd soon be leaving _her_ best friends. But, Miss Karen was right; she couldn't resist a new book –even something as childish as a picture book. Without conscious thought, she found herself opening the book to a random page, "But Peter moved away. There was nothing to do without Peter. There was no one to play with."

Unable to hold her emotions in check any longer, Hermione burst into tears once more.

"Your parents let the Headmaster know that you wouldn't be coming back next year." Miss Karen was speaking and Hermione, looking up at her through glistening eyes, tried to focus on what she was saying. "I thought you might find this book helpful, a little something to help you deal with everything that's coming. It's a little above your grade-level, but you've been reading above your grade-level for a while now, haven't you?"

"Thank you, Miss Karen. It's perfect!" Despite her tears, Hermione managed a half-smile. Even though it would likely make her cry even more to read the book all the way through, it really was the perfect gift.

"You're welcome, dear," Miss Karen smiled at her, then turned to walk away, "I'll leave you to it, then." She took a few steps then paused, looking back at them over her shoulder, "I'll be cutting the cake in a couple of minutes, if you're feeling up to joining us."

But Hermione wasn't feeling ready to rejoin the group just yet. Instead, she dragged her friends over to the soft cushions that the class used for story-time, and settled herself comfortably with her legs crossed, and a friend on either side. Then, turning the book to the very first page, she started to read aloud, "Peter came to tell Robert the news…"

All three of them were crying by the time she reached the end of the tale of Robert and Peter, who were best friends, even after Peter moved away, and they both made new friends. But despite the tears, Hermione felt better after reading it.

It gave her hope for her friendship, and it made her grief and frustration just a little bit easier to bear...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We Are Best Friends" first published in 1982, is property of Aliki Bradenberg and various publishers, no copy write infringement intended. Many thanks to my beta, Arnel, for her help on this chapter. A special thanks to OceanLyric, my very first PO3 reviewer. I'd also like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story.


	37. Chapter 37

“To remember us by...”

Neville and Harry met Hermione at their front door, and handed her a Wizarding photograph of the three of them, and Colin, taken the day of the impossible snowman.

Hermione burst into tears.

The week since the last day of school had passed in an emotional whirlwind. Her parents had so much to do, and she’d quickly discovered that staying out from underfoot was a better policy than trying to help –or begging to go see her friends and being told no. So, she’d spent more than a few hours up in her room thinking, and re-thinking, over and over, again which books and toys she couldn’t live without for a few weeks, talking to Annie, and re-reading Miss Karen’s parting gift.

But there were only so many hours that she could spend alone in her room, without going crazy. So, with less than twenty-fours to go before their move, Hermione had finally managed to cajole her parents into one last visit to the Potters...

 “Don’t cry,” whispered Neville, pulling her into a hug, and drawing her into the house. “It’ll be okay.”

The photo was supposed to make Hermione happy, not sad.

But maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. She was always sad these days. In the week since school had let out, neither he, nor Harry had managed to have a single telephone conversation with her, without her bursting into tears–at least once.

It made him feel so helpless, listening to her cry and not being able to do anything about it.

But now, Hermione was here in person –for what would probably be the last time, in a really long time... So, he pulled her down onto the couch, between Harry and himself, and they both hugged her as she sobbed, because they were sad too, and they were going to miss her...

Neville had no idea how long the three of them sat that way, letting their tears mingle, but eventually Hermione’s sobs trickled to a stop, and she pulled away from the three-way hug, wiping ineffectually at her tears with the back of her hand.

“Thanks, boys,” she said, attempting –but failing– to smile. “It’s a really thoughtful gift.”

“Mum says that she charmed it, so that Muggles won’t notice that any of us are moving in the picture,” explained Harry, “That way you can put it up in your new room, in your new house, and you don’t have to hide it from your parents.”

“Even better!” Hermione managed a half-smile, at his suggestion. “That way I can look at you every day, and I won’t ever forget you.”

 “Like you could ever forget us... We’re too annoying and silly to be forgotten, remember?” joked Neville.

Hermione didn’t crack so much as a smile.

“Besides, it’s not like we’ll never see each other again,” added Harry. “I asked Mum and Dad where the city is. It isn’t so far that we can’t ever visit. And we’ll write lots of letters. I promise. Mum promised to help, since me and Neville don’t write too good yet. And we’ll all see each other at Hogwarts, in five–”

Despite herself, Hermione found herself sniffling once again.

Neville and Harry talked about Hogwarts a lot, as though it was a foregone conclusion that they would all be going there together some day. But a mere week ago, she had considered it a foregone conclusion that they would make their way through primary school together, as well...

No one in her family had ever been to Hogwarts... What if, despite everything her friends believed, she wasn’t magic enough to go? What if she did get an invitation, but her parents said no? What if...?

 “What if I don’t go to Hogwarts?” she asked.

 _Not go to Hogwarts?_ Neville stared at her, perplexed, unable to formulate a coherent response. What did she mean? _Why would Hermione not go to Hogwarts? Every witch and wizard in the entire United Kingdom went to Hogwarts..._

“Of course you will.” Harry shook his head in disbelief. “When you get your letter, you will. Remus says no one has ever turned down an invitation to Hogwarts.”

“Yeah!” agreed Neville, because the very idea of not going to Hogwarts was crazy. Even his over-protective Gran had never once mentioned not letting him go to _Hogwarts._

Hermione felt a smile begin to creep onto her face, and she let herself be reassured. Maybe going to Hogwarts wasn’t just a pipe dream, this wasn’t a real goodbye, and they would see each other again someday… The boys sounded so _sure_.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” She darted up from the sofa, and towards the door, where she’d dropped the bag she’d come with, on her way into the house.

Reaching into the bag, she pulled out two brightly wrapped packages, and handed one to each boy. “I’m really sorry I’m going to miss your birthdays. Happy Early Birthday!”

The boys, sporting twin grins, wasted no time ripping into the wrapping paper, but Hermione looked down at her feet, and shuffled nervously. She couldn’t bear to watch their reactions. _What if they didn’t like them?_

Their birthdays weren’t for another month, and she’d thought that there’d be plenty of time to go shopping once school let out. So she hadn’t thought to ask to go out and buy gifts –until it was too late. With everything they needed to do in time for their move, there was no way that her parents would have agreed to take her shopping. Already, convincing them to let her visit had been stretching it.

However, it was bad enough that she was going to miss their birthday party, there was no way she was going to pass on getting them a gift too. So she’d thought really hard and come up with what she thought would be the best gift, given the circumstances...

The sound of ripping paper stopped.

Hermione wringed her hands nervously. “To remember me by...” she explained. She’d picked out one of her own picture books, for each of them –old favourites that she rarely read anymore, and could handle parting with –and added a personal inscription to each. “I know you don’t like reading as much as I do but...”

She chanced a glance up.

Harry was smiling brightly at her in appreciation. He didn’t like books half as much as she did, but he liked them well enough –especially when they had lots of pictures in them.

Besides, a book was just the right gift for remembering Hermione …

“Thanks, Hermione. It’s perfect!”

Neville smiled too, “Thanks, Hermione!”

Relieved, Hermione let herself smile back.

Yes, she was moving away in less than twenty-four hours, but nothing would change the fact Neville and Harry were now, and always would be her best friends forever...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story. In absence of new reviews, they were the only proof I had that someone was reading. Lastly, but definitely not least, I would like to thank my beta Arnel for her help on this chapter.


	38. Chapter 38

“PETER PETTIGREW ESCAPES AZKABAN”

Lily started as she relieved the mail-owl of its burden, and caught a glimpse of the front-page headline. That couldn’t be right.

She read it again, but the headline didn’t change.

Gingerly, she unfolded the paper to read the accompanying article.

> _Peter Pettigrew, convicted Death Eater, was discovered missing from his locked cell in Azkaban, early this morning. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is currently investigating to discover the exact means of his escape, and a number of Dementors have been dispatched from Azkaban to assist in the search for the escaped prisoner._
> 
> _“We are doing all we can to recapture Pettigrew,” said Minister Fudge this morning, in the wake of this unprecedented break-out, “and beg the magical community to remain calm.”_
> 
> _Pettigrew, a low-ranking soldier in the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, is best known for his attempted betrayal of his best friend James Potter, who went into hiding with his wife and eighteen-month-old son, Harry, near the end of the war. He was convicted of espionage, and is considered an accessory in multiple deaths in the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._
> 
> _Though described as a wizard of mediocre power, by most who know him, Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, urges the magical community to be cautious about confronting Pettigrew directly. “As it is still unclear exactly how Pettigrew escaped Azkaban, he should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. A special Floo line has been set up, and any sighting of Pettigrew should be reported immediately to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”_

Lily shuddered, letting the paper slip from her fingers, as she reached the end of article. Peter Pettigrew was a part of her past that she’d much rather forget, a mistake that had almost cost James and herself their lives, and that of their son. The idea of him on the loose again... _How did he escape? What was he planning? Was he coming for them, to finish off the job? Or was he up to something else, equally nefarious?_

She leaned on the kitchen counter for support. Heather and the boys would be up soon, and she knew she couldn’t deal with this alone; she just couldn’t.

James had already left for work – _did he know yet? Would he learn it as she did, from the paper? Or would some thoughtful colleague sit him down, and tell him the news?_

Leaving the paper on the floor, where it had fallen, she stumbled into the parlour and threw some Floo powder into the fire, calling out the address for James’ office Floo, before trusting her head into the flames.

James was sitting at his desk, with a cup of tea and some paperwork, his posture showing none of the distress that she was feeling –he must not have heard yet.

She almost pulled her head out of the fire, right then –what right did she have to ruin his day? Maybe she could handle this alone, after all. She was a strong witch, not a damsel in distress.

But before she could make up her mind to do so, James caught sight of her face in the fire, and came rushing to the fireplace, paperwork forgotten. Lily almost never called at work, and the expression on her face... _Had something happened to one of the boys, or Heather?_

“Lily what’s wrong?”

“I can’t...” Lily hesitated. She might have been too weak to leave him in his ignorant bliss a few hours longer, but she wasn’t selfish enough to break news like this to him over the Floo Network. “Just...just… Come home, please. I need you.”

“Of course,” James didn’t hesitate, horrific scenarios already playing through his mind. Lily wouldn’t be asking if something serious wasn’t going on. “I’ll be right there. Just let me dash out, and let the boss know that I’m taking a personal day.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A visibly distraught Lily met James at their Floo, the moment he stepped through. Wordlessly, she handed him the morning paper.

He caught sight of the front-page headline, and his eyes widened in surprise, the reason for Lily’s pallor instantly clear. James could feel the blood draining progressively from his own face, with each line he read.

By the time he reached to end of the article, his knees were threatening to buckle.

Trembling, he set the paper down on the mantle, then took three shaky steps towards his wife, pulling her into a tight embrace. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered, unsure whether the words were meant more to encourage her, or himself.

Lily felt marginally better when they finally pulled apart, but the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach remained. She took a few steps back, and sank into the loveseat across from the fireplace, pulling James down with her. “You think he’ll come here?” she asked.

“Most likely,” James answered, the same fear gnawing at his own gut. “We’ll have to strengthen the wards, and keep the boys inside in the meantime.”

“They won’t like that,” pointed out Lily, dreading the boys’ reaction. “Summer holidays just started.”

“Hopefully they’ll catch him soon, and it won’t be for long. I’ll get together with Sirius and Remus, and we’ll go talk to whoever is in charge of the search at DMLE, tell them everything we can possibly think of about him to help –there was a time that we knew his pretty well... Peter was never very clever; they’ll catch him,” said James, with more confidence and conviction than he actually felt. After all, Peter had managed to dupe them for months –if not years –about his allegiances, dupe them so well that they had been willing to trust him with their lives.

But not anymore. They knew his true colours now. They would never let him get close enough to hurt them, ever again.

“What if?” asked Lily, unconvinced by his false positivity. “What if he’s hiding out as a rat? They’ll never find him amongst all the gutter rats of the United Kingdom.”

James shook his head, “We’ll have to out Peter’s form to the DMLE, but there are ways to detect an Animagus, if you know to look for one…” He managed a wry half-smile, “I suppose it’s high time for Padfoot and Prongs to go legal, and I’m sure Padfoot will agree.”

Though hardly reassured, Lily nodded. She wasn’t going to get anything better, under the circumstances. “So what do we tell the boys?”

James didn’t get a chance to respond, as no sooner than the words were out of her mouth, the boys in question came thundering down the stairs, as though summoned.

Neville stopped short at the bottom of the stairs, “Is it Saturday?” he asked.

“No,” answered Lily, brow furrowing. “Why?”

“Then why is Daddy here?” asked Harry.

Lily patted the seat beside her. “Come here, boys,” she said. It would be a tight fit, but there was enough room for the two almost-six-year-olds between her and James. “James is here because we have some bad news to tell you.”

Harry closed to distance between the stairs and the loveseat without further prompting and launched himself onto his mother’s lap, rather than squeeze in between his parents.

Neville, however, took only two steps before stopping short. “Did something happen to Gran?” he asked, voice tiny and hesitant.

“No, no, your Gran is fine,” Lily replied quickly, before the idea could have time to fester. “Come sit down with us, so that we can explain things properly.”

Reassured, Neville closed the remaining distance, and climbed up onto James’ lap. If Harry got to sit on Lily’s lap, it was only fair that he got James’, especially if the grown-up were going to tell them about something _bad._

He turned to Lily expectantly, but it was James that spoke first, breaking the oppressive silence. “Many years ago, when I was a first-year at Hogwarts, I made three friends: Remus and Sirius –who you know –and a mousy-haired boy named Peter –who you don’t. Within weeks of being sorted into Gryffindor, we were inseparable, and...”

As Harry and Neville listened avidly to James tell the story of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs –a story that they had already heard many parts of, in bits and pieces, over the years –the feeling of trepidation inspired by Lily’s mention of bad news began to wane. This wasn’t a bad story, at all...

But then it was.

Harry shuddered as his daddy explained about how Wormtail had tried to sell his family out to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and had only failed because You-Know-Who had chosen to attack Neville’s family first. He breathed a brief sigh of relief when Daddy told of his former friend’s arrest, but started shivering again when Mummy broke the news that Wormtail had escaped from prison, last night.

“Now, now,” said Mummy, hugging him tightly, “there’s nothing to be afraid of. Your father and I are going to make sure nothing happens to you, either of you. But, we’re going to have to put up stronger wards, and we’re going to all have to be extra vigilant. That means, no leaving the house until the new wards are up, and no leaving the grounds –until this is all behind us –once they are. Do you understand?”

Neville, struggling to digest this newest addition to the long list of threats to his life, nodded seriously.

Mostly reassured but still pale with worry, Harry did too. Mummy and Daddy would keep them safe…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story. In absence of new reviews, they were the only proof I had that someone was reading. Lastly, but definitely not least, I would like to thank my beta Arnel for her help on this chapter.


	39. Chapter 39

“But you promised!” Harry stomped his feet in frustration.

His mom and dad had _promised_ that he and Neville could have their joint birthday party at a restaurant with their friends from school, _months ago_.  They’d even handed out all the invitations before school ended, to make sure that everyone received them. Now Mum was trying to go back on her word. _It wasn’t fair!_

Lily sighed. Maybe she should have waited till James was home, instead of choosing Heather’s nap-time, to break the news to the boys, but she hadn’t been expecting such a strong reaction.

Though, perhaps she should have; Harry and Neville had been really looking forward to having a birthday party with all their friends from school, and it had taken ages to get Augusta to agree to the party in the first place… but, a week after his escape from Azkaban, Pettigrew still hadn’t been caught, and the boys’ birthday weekend was fast approaching.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, “but with Peter Pettigrew still on the loose, it’s just too dangerous.”

A week ago, when the threat of Pettigrew had still been fresh, that statement would have cowed all argument, but after a week of no visible danger, the boys had all but forgotten their initial fear. Gone were the pale, scared, little boys who had cuddled up to her and James for comfort, and had agreed to stay within the wards until the danger was past.  Now, the boys were glaring at her with twin looks of anger laced with betrayal.

“But why can’t we just invite our friends over here, then?” insisted Harry.

“You know that won’t work because of the Fidelius Charm,” Lily pointed out. “Unless you want to exclude Neville from his own party...”

Harry looked down at his feet, grumbling once more at the unfairness of it all, but Neville seized on the idea, a hint of excitement entering his voice, as he suggested, “Gran could do the inviting; then everyone would know that I was here, and the charm wouldn’t be a problem.”

Lily took a deep breath, biting back her instinctive overprotective response to his suggestion. She’d had to do so more often lately, having developed a new-found respect for Augusta’s reluctance to share Neville’s secret, since Wormtail’s escape from Azkaban…

Snapping at Neville wouldn’t help though, especially since he did have a point. Having Augusta do the inviting _would_ solve the problem of the Fidelius _but_ , not only would she never agree to it, inviting that many people into their home was far too much of a security risk.

So, pushing back a wave of uncharacteristic appreciation for Augusta’s over-protectiveness, she managed to keep her voice gentle as she explained, “I’m sorry Neville, but letting that many people in on your secret would defeat the whole point of trying to limit the danger that the two of you are in.”

 

“But our friends are Muggles,” Neville insisted, “they won’t tell Wormtail anything.”

“I know they won’t,” Lily conceded. The Fidelius Charm would prevent anyone but Augusta from giving away Neville’s secret, even if they wanted to. There was more than Neville’s secret at stake here. “But Wormtail might be able to use your friends to get through the wards, even with the Fidelius, especially if it’s Harry he’s after, and not you.”

“Oh,” Neville frowned, hope shattered, once more, “but, what are we going to tell all our friends?”

Lily placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about that. James and I will take care of it.”

“ _Humph!_ ” Harry stomped his foot loudly. “Will we still have friends after you take care of it?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. _It wasn’t fair_! _It just wasn’t..._

Lily’s hand dropped to her hip, and all traces of her smile disappeared as she turned to fix her not-yet-six-year-old son with her patent-pending disapproving glare. “ _Harry James Potter_! Don’t you take that tone with me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, tumultuous expression fading into a morose frown.

Lily felt her expression soften, and she pulled him into a one-armed hug, beckoning with her free arm for Neville to join in. “I’m sorry boys,” she whispered sympathetically into their shoulders. She could understand their frustration. It couldn’t possibly be easy to be five –almost six– and cut off from their friends. “But it just isn’t safe for you to celebrate your birthday with your friends from school.”

Gently, she released the hug, and looked into two sets of glistening eyes. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have a party though. Sirius and Remus, and Gran can come over,” she pointed out, infusing as much enthusiasm as she could muster into the suggestion. “We can even invite the Creeveys over, if you want."

Augusta had suggested cutting all ties with even the neighbours, to protect the boys. But, tempting as it might have been to cut all ties with the outside world until the danger was past, it wouldn’t have been right. So, she’d told Carla a modified version of the truth; the Creeveys were welcome to come over, but Harry and Neville weren’t allowed to leave the house, until further notice, because the man who had killed Neville's parents had escaped prison, and was probably after Neville.

She was prepared to use the same story to explain the cancelled birthday party to the parents of Harry and Neville's school friends, regardless of how paranoid it would probably make her sound. Then again, Peter’s mug-shot —shared by the Minister of Magic with his Muggle counterpart—had been plastered across the Muggle news, with the caption armed and dangerous, for most of the past week, so maybe—

"But it's not the same," sniffled Neville, drawing Lily out of her thoughts. Colin had been over most days that week, and much as he liked the younger wizard –most of the time– he'd been looking forward to seeing some of his other friends.

"Yeah," agreed Harry, frowning deeply, "Colin is just one boy, and Dennis is almost as much of a baby as Heather—except that he can walk and talk."

Lily stifled a laugh at Harry’s description of the three-year-old, but she didn’t break. "Well, that's my final offer," she deadpanned, hands on her hips. "Take it, or leave it. I don't have to invite them over if you rather that I don't…"

"No. No," objected Harry, eyes widening in horror, at the threat. “Please invite them.”

Colin and Dennis might be younger than they were, but they were better that nothing, better than a birthday party with only grown-ups –even if one of those 'grown-ups' was Padfoot, who seemed to consider it his mission in life to keep them entertained...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story. In absence of new reviews, they were the only proof I had that someone was reading. Lastly, but definitely not least, I would like to thank my beta Arnel for her help on this chapter.


	40. Chapter 40

The flag on their mailbox was up.

 _Huh!_ Lily paused on her way to the kitchen—where she’d been hoping to manage a quiet cup of tea, before any of the children woke—and frowned. Aside from Christmas cards around the holidays, they didn’t get much Muggle mail...

Could Peter have hidden something dangerous in their mailbox? A magical letter bomb or contact poison?

_Probably not._

Peter was a pureblood wizard, with little imagination. He probably didn’t even know how a mailbox worked.

Still, best to check it out before the children woke up, especially considering how stir-crazy the boys were getting, and the veritable tantrum they’d thrown yesterday. It wouldn’t do for them to see her leave the house without them, even if she was only going to the end of the walk, and she couldn’t risk bringing them with her, if there was even a remote possibility that the mailbox’s contents might be dangerous...

Slipping on her shoes, she cast a quick glance up the stairs to check that the boys weren’t on their way down.

No sign of them yet.

She hurried out the door, and down the walk.

None of the detection spells that she cast at the mailbox suggested anything untoward. Still, she didn’t dare touch the lid, and instead used magic to flip it open.

The mailbox contained a single envelope—a single very white, very Muggle envelope. Recognizing the immaculately neat but childish handwriting it was addressed in, Lily let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, and smiled.

A letter from Hermione might be just the thing to cheer Harry and Neville up a little.

She rushed back into the house.

There was still no sign of the boys when she snuck back inside, but the escalating murmur coming from the baby monitor told her that Heather, at least, was up.

Lily sighed. So much for the quiet cup of tea she’d been hoping for…

Pausing only momentarily to set Hermione’s letter down in the entrance hall, Lily hurried up the stairs to retrieve her youngest. Considering the foul mood that the boys had been lately, they weren’t likely to react well to being woken by the sound of Heather’s increasingly shrill cries.

The boys, worn out from their multiple temper tantrums the day before, didn’t stir in the time it took her to get Heather calmed down, changed, and dressed, nor as she tip-toed past their room on her way back to the kitchen. In fact, by the time the boys thundered down the stairs, Heather had been fed, the mess she’d made trying to feed herself had been cleaned up, and the toddler was playing contentedly in her usual kitchen play-corner.

Without a word, Lily placed a full plate in front of each boy, and watched silently as they picked morosely at their food. Finally, she couldn’t take the heavy silence a moment longer.

She slid into the seat across from them and said, conversationally, “I’ve got some good news for you.”

Both boys bolted upright.

“They finally caught Wormtail, and we can go outside!?” asked Harry, grinning widely, his voice teeming with excitement.

A pang of guilt, for unintentionally getting their hopes up, washed over Lily. “I’m afraid not,” she answered, mind flashing back to that morning’s discouraging Daily Prophet headline: “PETTIGREW STILL AT LARGE.”

Harry’s bright smile faded quickly, as disappointment replaced excitement, and his morose gaze drifted back down to the now unappetising food in front of him.

Beside him, Neville, hope muted but still sparkling in his eyes, took a second guess, “Gran has agreed to invite some of our friends over, so we can have a real birthday party?”

Lily’s frown deepened. Maybe she was going about this wrong… she should probably have just given them the news straight off, instead of being forced to pile disappointment on top of disappointment… but she wasn’t going to lie to them either. “No, I’m sorry, but what I said last week still applies. It really wouldn’t be a good idea for you to have friends over right now.”

“Whatever,” Neville grumbled, slouching back over his plate, eyes now glistening with unshed tears instead of excitement.  

“But...” she paused, waiting for them to pay attention, but both boys kept their gazes intently focused on their plates, neither of them crying, but both teetering on the edge. Finally, after a full minute of silence, broken only by the sound of their forks scraping distractedly on their plates, she gave up and blurted out her news, “Hermione sent a letter.”

_Clink!_

Neville’s fork fell to his plate, forgotten. “She did!?”

“Yes!” Lily smiled at the two grinning boys. Now, _that_ was more the reaction that she’d been angling for. “Now finish your breakfast, so we can clear the table to read it.”

Their smiles muted slightly, but neither boy bothered protesting. Instead, they turned to the task of inhaling their food without choking, with more enthusiasm than they had shown in weeks. Then, they jostled each other to help with after-breakfast clean-up, practically fighting over who brought which plates to the counter, and who dried which dishes, despite her admonishments that broken plates would slow production down, rather than speed it up.

By the time she declared breakfast sufficiently cleaned up, and had retrieved the letter from the entrance hall, they were both practically bouncing on the balls of their feet.

With one boy peering over each shoulder, Lily broke the seal on the envelope and pulled the letter out, unfolding it to reveal more of the same careful script:

> _Dear Harry and Neville,_
> 
> _By the time you get this I will probably have missed both your birthdays. But happy belated birthday to you both!_
> 
> _I miss both of you very much. Our new house is very nice and the neighbourhood seems rather quaint. I haven’t met any other children yet, but Mother says that she’s sure there are some, and that I’ll probably meet them once I start school in September._
> 
> _Mother and Father have been very understanding of my loneliness, but they’ve been very busy lately with setting up their practice, and with trying to unpack everything. (We’ve even discussed the possibility of my needing a daytime minder once we’ve settled down a little, so that both Mother and Father can be at their practice at the same time.) So, it’s been mostly just Annie and me. I’ve been keeping myself occupied with my reading._
> 
> _By the way, Annie doesn’t say it, but I know she misses you too. I look forward to hearing from you._
> 
> _Your friend forever,_
> 
> _Hermione_

“Can we write back, Lily?” asked Neville, before she could even set the letter down.

Lily cast a quick glance at Heather. The toddler was still playing cheerfully. “Sure, honey.” Lily smiled, _mission accomplished_. It might be just temporary, but she’d managed to get the boys’ minds off their imposed house arrest and isolation, and onto something positive. “Just give me a minute to go get a pen and some paper.”

She only left the room for a minute, but Harry pounced on her the moment she returned, Muggle pen and paper in hand. “Mine first, Mum!” he begged.

Neville pouted. “But I asked first!”

“But it was my idea that we should write letters!” insisted Harry, “and Hermione wrote ‘Harry and Neville,’ so I should get to write my letter first.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

“Yes, it does!”

“No, it doesn’t! And I asked first,” he turned to Lily, “Lily you promised.”

“She didn’t promise anything.” Harry didn’t give her a chance to respond. “You just _assumed_.”

“Boys!” Lily’s sharp tone silenced both boys, and caused even Heather to look up momentarily from her toys, startled. “That’s enough! I was going to write both your letters, but if you can’t stop arguing, I won’t be writing either of them.” It was an empty threat, all things considered, but the boys didn’t need to know that, provided it had the desired response.

 _“Humph!”_ Neville swallowed his intended response.

Harry glared at his feet, but didn’t make a sound.

“Fine!” Neville ground out, after a moment of tense silence. “Write Harry’s first… but it better not be too long...”

Harry’s downward gaze transformed into a triumphant smirk.

Neville glared scathingly.

Mindful of his mother’s disapproving gaze, Harry quickly assumed a more modest expression, waiting with poorly contained impatience for her to pull herself a seat, and set pen to paper: 

> _“Dear Hermione,_
> 
> _I miss you very much. It’s very boring with you gone. Yesterday when me, and Colin, and Neville played Aurors and Dark wizards they made me be the girl. Neville said it was practice for when Wormtail comes to get me, but Mum made him stop teasing. She said just ‘cause Wormtail tried to help You-Know-Who kill me, doesn’t mean it’s me he wants to hurt now that he ran away from Azkaban. He might want Neville too._
> 
> _So, now we aren’t allowed to go outside anymore, not me, or Neville. Mum says even the yard isn’t safe anymore ‘cause Wormtail can turn into a rat. So, we have to wait ‘till Dad and Sirius put wards up._
> 
> _There are mousetraps all over the house. We’re not supposed to touch them though ‘cause Mum says that they’d cut off our fingers if we did –”_

“Awww come on Harry!” interrupted Neville. “I let you go first, but that’s more than enough...”

“I’m not finished yet!”

“But it’s my turn,” Neville whined. “Lily, tell him it’s my turn now.”

Lily kept her hand and pen poised to write, and her eyes on the paper in front of her, refusing to get pulled into the argument, unless it started to get out of hand.

“Fine!” humphed Harry, “just one more sentence: 

> _I have to go now because Neville is being rude and a big meanie and wants Mum to write his letter “Right Now!”_
> 
> _Bye,_
> 
> _Harry”_

He turned to Neville, “Happy now!?”

Neville steadfastly ignored him, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on Lily’s hands as she pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the pile she’d brought with her. There was more than one way to get back at his brother:

> _“Dear Hermione,_
> 
> _Harry’s a liar. He’s the one that’s being rude and grumpy, ever since we heard Lily and James talking about him, maybe, having to be a secret like me. First he steals my turn –Lily promised me first to write my letter –and now he’s calling me rude._
> 
> _I don’t know why he’s taking it out on me. It’s not my fault that the grown-ups are afraid he’s going to be kidnapped or killed. They’ve thought the same thing about me for years. And now Lily won’t let me or Harry go outside. And even though we screamed, and pouted, and stamped our feet, all day yesterday, she wouldn’t change her mind. It’s a miracle that they still let Colin come over. They even made us cancel our birthday party and everything, so don’t feel bad about missing it._
> 
> _And it’s so boring in the house. We can’t even play hide-and-go-seek because of all the stupid mousetraps, and who wants to play board games when it’s sunny outside? I’m so bored that I almost miss you forcing us to play House with you. I miss you._
> 
> _Write back soon,_
> 
> _Neville”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta, Arnel, for her help on this chapter. A special thanks to OceanLyric, for her recent review and for her outrage on the boys' behalf. I hope this chapter makes up for the last. I'd also like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story.


	41. Chapter 41

_Bzzz, bzzzz, bzzzzz, bzzzzzz, bzzzzzzz_

Engrossed as he was in his paperwork, it took James a moment to recognize the slowly intensifying buzzing deep in his bones.

_The wards!_

He bolted upright.

_Someone was nibbling at the wards that he and Sirius had erected last weekend!_

James jumped up from his seat and, cursing the fact that the Floo in his office could only handle calls,  ran for the outgoing Floo —ignoring his colleagues’ stares as he rushed through the department.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

James barely slowed, as he accidentally brushed against a pile of paperwork on a co-worker’s desk, sending parchments flying. He’d apologize later.

_Please don't let me be too late._

_Fa-thump!_   James stumbled through his home Floo, almost tripping over his daughter on his way out of the hearth, and causing Lily to look up from her knitting in surprise, at his ungainly entrance.

“What–”

James bolted out of the room before she could finish asking what was wrong.

 _Did I forget to key Lily to the wards?_ James pushed the thought aside. _Later, I’ll worry about that later._ Now, he had more pressing things to worry about —like getting to the site of the attempted breach, before the wards fell.

He burst through the back door.

His heart rose.

Harry and Neville were playing in the garden —where they'd spent almost every waking minute, since the adults had declared it safe enough for them to be outdoors.

"Get inside boys! Now!"

Surprised, the boys scampered past him, and into the house, without a word.

James felt his heartbeat calm—marginally.

A preliminary visual scan of the yard found nothing out of place —but he hadn't really expected it to. Whatever was nibbling at the wards hadn't gotten through _yet_.

He cast an extrasensory spell, allowing him to briefly see through the fence bordering their yard, to the edge of the wards beyond it.

_There!_

Crouched by some shrubbery on the Creevey side of the fence, wand pointed at the ward-line, was a dishevelled looking Wormtail —hardly recognizable as his old friend, after over four years in Azkaban, and weeks on the run.

The extrasensory spell faded.

“ _Confringo!_ ”

James took aim at the fence, and a portion of it exploded, pelting Pettigrew with wood fragments.

He took aim again.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

The cowering wizard disappeared.

James lowered his wand, adjusting his aim to target the grey garden rat that stood in his place.

The rat scampered off into the shrubbery, out of sight, and he scanned the shrubs, frantically. _There!_ It appeared briefly by the fence separating the Creevey’s yard from number nine, but before he could get his wand up, it darted under the divider, and out of sight once more.

James took an impulsive step forward, intent to give chase —then stopped short. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't keep blasting through fences, without risking a serious breach of the Statue of Secrecy and, if he tried to go the long way around, Wormtail would be long gone before he made it into the next yard over.

With a heavy feeling in his gut, James repaired the demolished fence and turned back towards the house, shoulders slumped in defeat. Peter might not have gotten through the wards, but he _had_ attacked them. James and Lily been dancing around the issue for weeks, but it was clear that they couldn't take the risk of relying on the wards alone anymore. There could be no more denying that Wormtail was after them, that after over four years of peace, the Potters were once more a target —Harry was once more a target.

Mind made up, he pulled open the kitchen door —and found himself facing the business end of Lily’s wand, and under pressure to prove his identity.

When he’d finally done so to her satisfaction, James stumbled past her and dropped unceremoniously into one of the kitchen chairs. "You can come out now, kids."

The boys emerged from behind the counter with uncharacteristic timidity, Heather toddling unsteadily between them.

"Wormtail was trying to get through the wards," James answered the unvoiced question. "He got away."

Harry shuddered, barely noticing the noise Heather made as she plopped unceremoniously to the ground beside him. He hadn’t meant to let go of her hand, but…

Before, Wormtail had been an abstract danger –something that the grown-ups talked about but that didn't feel real, not after the initial fear had worn off… But now…Wormtail had been here, had been trying to get in… Suddenly, the danger was very real —very real, and very scary. "Does that mean that we can't go outside anymore?"

James shook his head. "Not necessarily."

Keeping the boys cooped up inside long-tem, tempting as it might be, probably wouldn't significantly change the danger they were in. " _But_ we will have to re-check the wards, in case he managed to make any cracks in them, and…"

He hesitated, glancing at Lily for support, but she was occupied with consoling their daughter, and gave no sign of noticing his unspoken request for solidarity. No matter, he’d made up his mind. Nothing else would set his mind at ease and, even without consulting her, he knew Lily would agree.

"…and it would be best if you were to become a Secret like Neville," James finished his sentence.

Harry frowned, and for a long moment he didn’t speak, couldn’t find the words. He’d known that his parents had been thinking about making him a Secret for weeks, had overheard them discussing it more than once. But he’d never really thought of what it meant, never really believed that they’d actually go through with it.

Unbidden, his mind conjured up memories from before Colin had known Neville’s Secret, when he’d thought that Neville was Harry’s imaginary friend. "Are…are all my friends going to forget that I exist?" he asked, voice wavering.

He didn't want any of his friends to forget him, especially not Hermione, but maybe — just maybe— it would be okay for them to forget for a little while, if it kept him safe…

"No, they won't forget you," Lily answered, before the worry could take root. "They'll just forget how to find you, forget where you live."

That wasn't too bad. If Neville could live with that, so could he, especially if it was only for a little while, only until Wormtail was caught… His parents wouldn't keep him a secret forever, would they? They weren't paranoid like Neville's Gran…

Harry nodded. "Okay."

 “Good boy.” James let out a sigh of relief at the lack of significant resistance, then met Lily’s gaze. They had a lot to talk about, preferably without so many ears present.

Lily nodded. “Why don’t you boys run up to your room for a bit, and bring your sister with you? James and I have to talk.”

The boys hesitated. But she shooed them out, before setting about casting a variety of privacy spells, layering them one on top of another.

 James shot her a questioning look. He was well aware that the boys probably had their ears up to the door, trying to eavesdrop, but surely a simple _Silencing Charm_ would have the job…

 “HOW COULD YOU FORGET TO KEY ME TO THE ALARM ON THE WARDS?”

 _Or maybe not!_ James cringed. He hadn’t heard Lily hit quite that pitch in years, and the last time he hadn’t been the target… “I’m sorry!”

A fresh wave of distress and powerlessness washed over him. It had been a simple oversight –a simple potentially fatal oversight. If he had he been just a little slower at reacting to the alarm, if Wormtail had been a little more efficient at dismantling the wards…  

Lily’s glare softened almost as quickly as it had appeared, and she pulled him into a hug, as much to reassure herself as to comfort him. “So what are we going to do now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” James admitted. “I haven’t thought past the fact that we need to cast the Fidelius to protect Harry.”

“That’s the most important part,” Lily agreed, pulling out of the hug. “Now, we have to work out the logistics: Who will be Secret-Keeper? Do we hide just Harry, or the whole family? Who do we let in on the Secret? Will you continue to go to work...?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta, Arnel, for her help on this chapter. A special thanks to OceanLyric, my sole reviewer, thus far on AO3. I'd also like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story.


	42. Chapter 42

_Ding-Dong!_

James shuffled anxiously as he waited impatiently for one of the Creeveys to answer their door. He’d never been next door before without Lily —or at the very least, one or both of the boys—but considering the day’s events, he was the only one who could make this visit…

 “James!” Carla opened the door with a broad smile. “I wasn’t expecting, you. Do you want to come in?”

James allowed her to beckon him into her entrance hall, and close the door behind him—so soon after his encounter with Wormtail, he’d felt uncomfortably exposed on the front stoop.

“I was just about to put a kettle on. Would you like a cuppa?”

James hesitated. Sitting down for a cup of tea would probably lead to opportunities to get the Secret out less awkwardly than what he had planned, but he didn’t trust his ability to make small talk with Muggles, without Lily to chaperone. Best stick to the plan that they had worked out.

_Step one: get both elder Creeveys in the same room._

“No thanks, this won't take long,” he insisted. “Is Melg around? I was hoping to talk to both of you...”

Carla frowned in consternation, but left to retrieve her husband, without question. The Potters had been on edge, ever since that awful man had escaped from prison, and James looked so tense. Had something happened?

 “Is something wrong?” Melg asked, for them both.

James smiled sheepishly, ignoring the question.

 _Step two: get the Secret out, no matter how odd it might sound_.

“I just wanted to let you know that we that we seem to be having a bit of a rat problem, next door at number five, Cherry Road, where I live with my wife Lily, our son Harry, our foster-son Neville, and our daughter Heather.”

The most important details dealt with James paused, before adding, “Also, I’m pretty sure that I saw one escape into your garden this morning, so you might want to invest in some rat traps.” Wormtail wasn’t likely to get himself caught in a Muggle rat-trap, but they might dissuade him from hanging around the Creeveys’ garden, in the future.

James struggled not to fidget in the moment of uncomfortable silence which followed his statement, the Creeveys no doubt wondering at his odd phrasing, and the fact that he’d insisted on having both of them present for something so trivial. The Muggles had found him odd almost from day one, so what was a little more...?

Telling both adults at once had been critical, and neither he, nor Lily had been able to come up with a better way of phrasing the Secret for their Muggle neighbours –most of their other ideas had sounded even odder.

_Time for step three: get both Muggleborn boys away from their parents, so he could candidly tell them the Secret in a slightly more conventional manner._

“Also...Harry and Neville were hoping that maybe Colin and Dennis could come over to play...”

“I’m sure they’d love to.” Carla’s confused frown—that had definitely not been what she had been expecting— blossomed into a smile, at the thought of a child-free afternoon. “I’ll be right back.”

The awkward silence, that followed her leaving the two men alone, was broken a moment later by a squealing Dennis, barrelling into the entrance in excitement. He wasn’t often included in play-dates with the older boys, and wasn’t about to risk his mum changing her mind.

Colin trailed several paces behind him, his down-turned face hiding a scowl. Why was Mum making him bring is tag-along brother next door with him? Dennis was no fun!

“Ready to go?”

 _James!_ Colin looked up from his feet, and managed a half-smile at the sight of who had come to collect them. James wasn't often home when he went next door, but he always made things more fun than… Huh? Oddly he couldn't remember who… Who else lived next door that was less fun than James? There was Neville and…?

Colin made a mental list of everyone he knew: his parents, Dennis, his grandparents, his aunts, uncles and cousins, Hermione, her parents, James, Lily, Harry, Neville, Neville's Gran, Heather, Sirius, Remus… His parents and Dennis lived with him; his extended family all lived out of town; Hermione and her parents had just moved away. Who lived next door other than James and Neville? Not Sirius or Remus, or Neville's Gran, though they were sometimes there too. Try as he might, the answer kept slipping away.

Giving up, Colin hurried to catch up with James, who was walking quickly and had made it to the end of the walk while he’d been lost in his thoughts. They'd be next door soon enough, and then he wouldn't need to remember anymore, because then he would see for himself.

But instead of leading them straight into the house, James stopped them both on the front stoop, and asked very seriously, "Do you know who lives here?"

"You and Neville," Dennis answered without hesitation, but Colin groaned. He knew that there was something more that he couldn’t remember. Was that why James was asking?  Was he mad because he'd read Colin's thoughts and knew that Colin couldn't remember the answer?

"That’s right." James smiled. Maybe he wasn’t mad. "But does anyone else live here?"

Colin felt a rush of relief as a look of confusion crossed his brother's face, at the question. If Dennis didn't know either, maybe he wasn't going crazy.

After a moment, satisfied that the Fidelius was working properly, James spoke the answer that was eluding both boys, "My wife Lily, our son Harry and our daughter Heather, also live here at number five, Cherry Road."

 _Oh yeah_! Colin felt a fog lift from his mind, accompanied by a flood of shame. How had he forgotten that Lily, Harry and Heather lived next door? He hadn't forgotten that they existed…

James smiled at him reassuringly. "Do you remember when you first met Harry and Neville, Colin?"

Colin nodded, shame multiplying at the reminder. "I couldn’t see Neville ‘cause of magic, so I thought that he wasn’t real." Even now, two years later, he felt bad about ever thinking that Neville was imaginary.

"That’s right." James didn't seem mad. "The reason that you couldn't remember that Lily, Harry and Heather live here is because I cast the same magic on them, to protect them."

 _Oh!_ Colin's frown faded, as understanding seeped in his mind. It wasn't his fault that he'd forgotten who lived next door. James had made him forget.

"But you mustn't tell your parents, either of you," warned James as he reached for the door handle. The boys nodded solemnly in response, but James didn’t have very high hopes of them keeping their promise. Colin was _really_ bad at keeping secrets from his parents. Fortunately, he also had quite the imagination, so his parents didn’t believe most of fantastical things that he told them…

Lily met them just inside the door, and ushered the boys up to Harry and Neville’s room, watching them pensively as they thundered up the stairs. Hopefully, they’d be able to distract the older two from their recent close call.

Only once they were out of view did she turn her attention back to her husband. “How’d it go?”

James managed a self-depreciating half-smile. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. They definitely think I’m a few Knuts short of a Galleon now, if they didn’t already…”

Lily laughed. “Saying things like that in front of them doesn’t exactly help your case.”

“Wh—”

“Never mind, dear, you can’t help the fact that you’re a clueless pureblood.” She gave him a peck on the cheek.

“The others won’t think you’re crazy. Best get on with it…” she shooed him from the entrance into the living room.

Bracing himself, James stepped up to the fireplace, took some Floo powder from the mantle, and threw it into the fire, taking advantage of his standing invitation to visit the Longbottom ancestral home. He didn’t have long to wait before, alerted by the wards on her Floo, the Longbottom matriarch joined him in the sitting room which housed the incoming Floo.

A brief flash of concern crossed her face, as she recognized her visitor—it wasn’t like James to call on her in the middle of a weekday—but she buried it. It did her no good to jump to unfortunate conclusions.

"Take a seat, please,” she offered, lowering herself into one of the armchairs facing the fire, and gesturing to the one across from it, “Would you like something to drink?"

James took a seat but declined the offered refreshments. "I'm not planning on staying long."

Augusta didn’t insist. "You have news of Pettigrew, then?" she asked, taking a guess at the reason for his mid-afternoon visit.

James nodded somberly, "But not what you're probably hoping to hear."

Concern flashed across her face, once more.

"No one was hurt," James added quickly, before she could jump to the wrong conclusion. "He didn't even make it through the wards. But… he did _try_ to breach them today. So Lily and I decided… that is… I've taken the step of placing the rest of my family under a Fidelius Charm."

Augusta frowned as she realized that, indeed, she couldn't remember the location of the family in question. She knew where James lived, and she knew that she had entrusted Neville into his and Lily's care. But, every time she tried to draw a conclusion based on those two facts, the location slipped from her mind. Was this how it felt for people who hadn’t been let in on Neville’s Secret? How thoroughly disconcerting… 

Fortunately, James didn't leave her hanging long. "Lily, Harry and Heather Potter, live at number five, Cherry Road." Then, after a moment, he added, "I understand if you want to relocate Neville for the time being, given the confirmation that our home is Pettigrew's target."

Her protective instincts roaring to the surface, Augusta seriously considered taking him up on the offer—but, no. Neville needed stability, not just safety. Uprooting him after nearly five years of living with the Potters was not in his best interests, much as her deep-rooted fears told her it was. "No need for that. I trust that you will do everything to protect your family –including my grandson. "

"Your trust is not misplaced, I promise." James smiled gratefully, and stood to leave, thankful that she wasn’t trying to separate the boys, now when Harry needed Neville most. "Can I use your Floo? I've got a few more stops to make today, but I'll keep you updated if there are any more developments."

"Yes, of course."

With a nod of thanks, James helped himself to some Floo powder, and called out, "Padfoot's Pad."

The last couple of stops on his list should be much easier than the first two…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta, Arnel, for her help on this chapter. A special thanks to OceanLyric, my sole reviewer, thus far on AO3. I'd also like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story.


	43. Chapter 43

“Re! Re!”

Lily stopped short, curious as to what had made Heather so excited. The toddler was pointing energetically out the living room window, but the object of her attention was far from obvious— at not-quite-eleven-months-old she wasn’t very good at pointing yet.

 _There!_ Lily spotted it: the raised red flag on their Muggle mailbox.

“That’s right. It _is_ red,” she answered, casting a glance towards the stairs that the boys had stomped up after she’d declared today to be an indoor day. They didn’t appear to be on their way back down.

“Shall we go check the mail?” she asked her daughter, lifting her up onto her hip, and pulling open the front door. The mailbox was inside the ward-line; it should be safe enough.

The toddler giggled in glee. “Hoot, hoot!”

“That’s right, the mail owl goes ‘hoot, hoot!’ but Muggles deliver their own mail, and they don’t hoot like owls.” Lily smiled affectionately and shifted her daughter to her left hip, freeing up her wand hand to check the mailbox for curses and open it.

As she pulled out a letter from Hermione, most-likely sent before the new Fidelius went into effect, Lily couldn’t help but smile at the young witch’s fortuitous timing.

Aside from Heather’s clueless babbling, the mood had been understandably sombre at breakfast, as the boys continued to digest yesterday’s close call and the newly-cast Fidelius. They hadn’t even argued with the newly-minted parental decree that they couldn’t play outdoors again until after James and Sirius double-checked the wards, and would need adult supervision once they were allowed outdoors again.

A letter from Hermione would go a long way towards cheering them up.

“Shall we go tell your brothers that they have mail?” she asked, heading back towards the house as quickly as she could with Heather weighing her down. The toddler giggled and made a nearly successful grab for the envelope.

“No, I don’t think so.” Lily set her daughter down in the entrance hall, effectively cutting off further attempts, before closing the front door behind them. “The boys won’t appreciate it if you chew on their letter.”

Disregarding Heather’s incoherent babbling—she didn’t seem overly upset at having the letter removed from reach— Lily hollered up the stairs, “You’ve got mail boys!”

She didn’t have long to wait. Her announcement was met with near instantaneous thundering footsteps leaving the boys’ room and, less than a minute later, she found herself seated on the couch, squeezed between the boys. Gently fending off Heather’s attempts to clamber onto her lap, Lily broke the seal on the letter, and started to read aloud:

> _“Dear Harry and Neville,_
> 
> _I was so happy to get your letters, though they did leave me with tons of questions: What is Azkaban? Who is Wormtail? Why would he want to kill Harry? If Harry becomes a Secret will I forget where to mail your letters?_
> 
> _I’m sorry to hear that you are confined to the house. Hopefully everything will work out soon and Lily will let you out._
> 
> _I still haven’t made any new friends, but my minder, Lisa, says that her best friend, Molly, has a younger sister about my age. Her family is out of town this week, but Lisa promised to introduce us as soon as they come back. Lisa’s the coolest minder ever. She plays with Annie and me, and she even helps me climb the tree in our back garden, so that I can sit in its branches while I read._
> 
> _Next week she promised to take me watch The Great Mouse Detective. Maybe that will help give me some perspective on your rodent problem, though probably not..._
> 
> _I continue to miss you both. Good luck with your Wormtail problem._
> 
> _Your friend forever,_
> 
> _Hermione”_

“What’s ‘The Great Mouse Detective,’ Lily?” asked Neville.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, “probably a film of some sort, if they’re going to go watch it. Why don’t you ask Hermione? I’m sure she’ll be happy to tell you about it, in her next letter.”

“Can we write our letters now, Mum?” asked Harry, chewing on his lip nervously. “I want to tell Hermione about the Secret, just in case she forgot me,” he added, unable to fully banish the worry, despite his parents’ multiple reassurances.

Lily sighed, but didn’t bother trying to console him. If everything she and James had said yesterday hadn’t calmed his fears, repeating herself today wasn’t going to help any. Probably the only thing that would, was hearing from Hermione’s own lips that she hadn’t forgotten him.

She made a mental note to track down the Grangers’ new telephone number and to coach James through the process of calling them, on the weekend. Including Hermione in James’s Secret-telling rounds yesterday had been impossible without inspiring questions from her parents that couldn't be answered, but she’d promised Harry that Hermione wouldn't be kept in the dark for long. If she was going to continue exchanging letters with the boys, she needed to know their Secret. Not to mention, after a month of nothing but letters, it would do the boys some good to hear her voice, and her to hear theirs.

But that could wait. Right now, the boys were staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to write their letters. “Let’s go into the kitchen so that I’ve got a table to write on.” 

The boys followed her meekly into the kitchen, with Heather crawling along quietly behind them. Then, they kept their sister entertained, while Lily retrieved the pen and left-over paper she’d in stored in a corner after writing their last letters, and settled herself at the table.

Finally bracing herself for an argument she asked, “Who’s first?”

“Harry should go first,” suggested Neville, showing more maturity than Lily had expected. “He’s got more to say.”

Harry smiled gratefully.

> _“Dear Hermione,_
> 
> _You sure asked a lot of questions. Azkaban is a really scary prison for wizards. Wormtail is an old friend of my father’s who tried to betray my family to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Mum and Dad think that maybe he escaped from prison to finish us off._
> 
> _He tried to break through the wards on our home yesterday, when me and Neville were playing outside. It was really scary. So now we can’t go outside again, and Mum and Dad have decided to make me a Secret, like Neville._
> 
> _Mum promised that the spell won’t make you forget about me, but, it's not safe for us to send the Secret in the mail, so don't be scared if you find that some things start getting fuzzy in your mind or memory. Mum says that it's normal, and promised that Dad will tell you my Secret soon._
> 
> _If you write again before we talk, send your letter to Neville only, so that it will get to us, since you already know Neville’s Secret._
> 
> _I have to go now because he’s trying to be nice and hasn’t said, but I think Neville really wants to write his letter now..._
> 
> _I miss you lots and lots,_
> 
> _Harry”_

Neville bounced from one foot to another while he waited for Lily to pull out a fresh sheet of paper for his letter. He knew that Harry was unhappy and nervous about becoming a Secret, and that he was worried that Hermione had forgotten about him, which was why he’d let him go first, but being patient was _hard_. He wanted to write to Hermione too...

> _Dear Hermione,_
> 
> _Harry is right; yesterday was really scary. Even though Lily and James have told me about the time when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to kill me as a baby, I don’t_ remember _. It’s different when you remember._
> 
> _Your minder sounds really cool. I can’t believe she let you climb a tree. Lily always says that it’s too dangerous, and she can cast magic to make sure that we don’t get hurt._
> 
> _I’m sorry to hear that you haven’t made any new friends yet, but I’m sure you will soon, as long as you remember not to act like a know-it-all —at least not until they know you good enough. I know you sometimes do it because you’re scared, and you want people to like you, but it doesn’t work, so just don’t, okay?_
> 
> _What’s ‘The Great Mouse Detective’? I asked Lily but she said she wasn’t sure. I thought that mice weren’t very smart, so how can one be a detective...?_
> 
> _Write back soon,_
> 
> _Neville_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to my wonderful beta, Arnel, who went the extra mile to help me iron as many Americanisms as possible, out of this chapter. I'd also like to thank all the readers who left kudos, subscribed to, and/or bookmarked this story. In absence of new reviews, they were the only proof I had that someone was reading. On a related note, chapter 44 is giving me quite a bit of trouble and I could do with an extra dose of motivation to get it out on time. Anecdotes regarding personal experiences with home-schooling would also be much appreciated.


End file.
